Loving the Fall
by MissAnnThropic
Summary: The Winchesters adjust to life as civilians while Castiel adjusts to being human. Christmas-fic. Sequel to "Leap That Makes the Fall."
1. Chapter 1

Title: Loving the Fall

Author: MissAnnThropic

Spoilers: sequel to my fic "Leap That Makes the Fall"… you should really read that one first!

LiveJournal: miss_annthropic(dot)livejournal(dot)com

Summary: The Winchesters adjust to life as civilians while Castiel adjusts to being human. Christmas-fic.

Disclaimer: None of it's mine. I'm just a sad little fangirl that spends her days writing fanfic and watching DVDs of her favorite shows :(

Author's Note: One of several reasons I am so happy that my original novel is finally published… I can finally get back to fandom guilt-free! I've missed you guys, and I've desperately missed Dean/Cas! A part of me misses the thrill of writing in an all-original universe of my own making, but it's great to get back to my favorite hunter/angel pairing.

So… yeah, a Christmas fic. I'm not really sure how this happened; I'm not the kind of person who writes holiday fic. Not that there's anything wrong with them, it's just never been my thing.

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><p>Certain things about a so-called normal life were scarily easy to get used to. One of those things was sleeping in on Saturday mornings. Dean usually made it last as long as possible, forcing the waking world to come in and haul him out by the scruff of his neck. Typically, it was one of two things that finally rousted his ass out of bed; the smell of something tasty cooking downstairs or Cas.<p>

Much as Dean liked a home-cooked meal, his favorite wake-up calls were the Castiel variety.

Dean rolled over in bed, arching his body from head to toe in a gigantic stretch, and flung his hand out to the right side of the bed. He opened his eyes with a scowl when he was met with cold sheets. He didn't even notice Castiel sneaking out while he slept.

A few months ago, not a chance in hell Dean would believe it was possible for anyone but Sam to be quiet enough to sneak out of a room while he slept. Dean marveled that he could be that comfortable in this house… that he could feel that safe with Cas.

Dean looked out the window. Castiel always wanted the curtains drawn back; he liked to see the sky. The panes were framed with snow, almost blending into the steel gray sky beyond. It was the kind of day, back when he was a hunter, when he would really hate that he had to get in the car and drive.

And now he didn't. Sometimes, this civilian gig was pretty sweet.

Dean swung his feet out of bed, went to the attached bath to piss and brush his teeth, then shuffled downstairs in sweat pants, t-shirt, and socks. It was also nice not having to sleep with boots on.

When he came around the corner on the first floor, Christmas smacked him in the face. The Harrison halls were fully decked, and it was so painfully normal that Dean and Sam were kind of having fits about it.

A lush Christmas tree was stuffed in the corner of the living room, wearing enough colored globes and strung with enough lights to feature in a _Better Homes and Gardens_Christmas edition. Zoë always had the lights turned on, so there was always a warm glow coming from the living room. Dean would never admit it, but it was nice.

"Yeah, I got a pen, go ahead, Bobby."

Dean turned at the sound of Sam's voice coming from the kitchen. He followed it and found his brother bent over the kitchen table, his shoulder jamming his cell phone against his ear while he scribbled on a notepad. "Three o'clock, flight 6837. Yeah, no problem. Ah…" Sam stood and took the phone in hand. "I don't know, probably me, I don't have to go in until later in the afternoon." Sam spotted Dean and gave him a slight nod of acknowledgment. "No, Dean doesn't get off until five." Sam laughed. "Yeah, tell me about it." Sam tossed down the pen in his hand. "All right, you bet. See you Wednesday, Bobby."

Sam hung up and slid his phone into his jeans pocket. "Hey," he offered his brother.

"Hey… where's Cas?" Dean meandered toward the coffee pot.

"Went out with Zoë to buy more Christmas decorations."

Dean's eyebrows shot up and looked around the house. It already looked like Saint Nick had waddled in and exploded all over the place with yuletide viscera. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah… so, telling Zoë how Christmas-deprived we were as kids wasn't the best idea I ever had."

Dean pulled a mug from the cupboard and poured himself a cup. "So that was Bobby on the phone?"

"Yeah… just giving me his flight info for Wednesday. You know, I think he's kind of freaking out a little at this 'normal Christmas' thing."

"That makes two of us," Dean grumbled. He turned, hitched his hip against the counter, and took a sip of coffee. Sam was nodding absently, by all outward appearances nonchalant, but Dean could read Sam like a 'See Spot Run' book. He'd been sort of out of whack for about a week, but only when he thought no one was watching.

And granted, Dean had been kind of settling into this Christmas thing like a psych patient at a cocktail party, but it wasn't really discomfort that kept stealing over Sam's face. It was more like _nerves_. It set off alarms from the old days, making a deeply-ingrained part of Dean tense.

Before Dean could call him out on it, they heard Zoë's car pull up in the drive. Sam's preoccupied look shifted to blossoming happiness. Dean smiled to himself. While he'd had some serious reservations about moving in with Zoë Harrison when Sam pitched it, so far it had worked out really well. And Sam was totally gone for the girl.

Of course, he would be. It was ordained by God and whatnot.

"They probably need help carrying in the bags," Sam commented.

"God, I hope not, surely they didn't buy _that_many decorations," Dean grumbled, but he set his cup down and pushed off the counter all the same. Zoë was apparently making up for every shitty Christmas Sam and Dean had ever had.

When the front door opened, the first one through the threshold was Cas. Dressed in jeans and huddled in a blue nylon jacket, he marched into the house with his shoulders hunched and hands stuffed in his pockets. He glanced up, took one look at Dean across the room, and strode over to him.

"Heya, Cas," Dean greeted before he let out a startled "umf!" when Castiel didn't stop speed-walking until his body met Dean's. Without taking his hands from his pockets, Castiel pressed himself against Dean and buried his face against Dean's neck. Dean brought up his arms out of reflex and wrapped them around Cas.

"I hate the cold," Cas grouched, burrowing closer to Dean for his body heat.

Dean chuckled and held Cas tighter. Snow was melting in Castiel's dark hair, and Dean could feel his frame shaking within the fleece-lined jacket. Dean hugged Castiel harder, and Cas nuzzled Dean's neck with a bitterly cold nose.

"I know you do," Dean said softly, rubbing his hands up and down Castiel's back. "You and I might just have to move south."

Sam drew up short and shot a quick look at Dean. It was the first time he'd ever said anything like that. Like Dean and Cas might leave the Harrison Ohio home where the four of them had found a strange-yet-normal life.

Just then, Zoë came through the front door with sacks in hand, face wind-kissed and pink from the cold, but she beamed when Sam moved toward her. "Hey! Could you get the wreath in the backseat? It was too big for me to carry in."

Sam's jaw dropped open before he could recover. "Yeah, sure." He scurried out into the slow-falling snow to fetch this apparently monster-wreath.

Zoë dropped her bags on the couch and looked over at Cas and Dean. She gave Castiel's miserable position a sympathetic look. "I've never met anyone who reacted to cold weather _that_badly."

'Yeah, well, you've never met anyone who used to burn like a fucking sun,' Dean thought as he ran a hand through Castiel's wet hair. "Yeah… he's a giant baby."

Cas made a disgruntled noise and pulled back. Lest Castiel think Dean was being an ass (jokes still sometimes eluded him), Dean prevented Castiel's escape with a hand on the back of his neck and swooped in to give him a quick kiss. It worked. It always did. The tension and glower melted off the former angel and he was all soft eyes and almost-smile.

"So... did you guys leave anything Christmasy at the store?" Dean asked.

"There were several canine costumes fashioned for the holiday that we didn't purchase," Castiel answered. Then he smirked.

One of the best things about Castiel falling was his burgeoning sense of humor.

"Although," Zoë chimed in cheekily, "he did give this one leash the eye."

"Kinky, Cas," Dean teased.

Then Sam was wrestling through the door the biggest damn wreath Dean had ever seen. It looked like the thing was trying to eat his little brother.

Dean leapt forward to rescue him. Cas helped Zoë unload the bags and scatter the red and green accents all over the house (which was already predominantly red and green, thank you very much).

Yeah… Christmas for the Winchesters, for once, was looking pretty Norman Rockwell.

And surprisingly… Dean was okay with that.

To Be Continued…


	2. Chapter 2

The Winchesters didn't have any Christmas traditions to contribute to the holiday, so they found themselves adopting Harrison traditions. One of those traditions was to eat meals at the coffee table in the living room, basking in the glow of the tree. The coffee table was low to the ground, so they all sat on the floor. It wasn't very big, so they had to sit close together, Dean and Cas on one side, Sam and Zoë on the other. Dean could take or leave several Christmas traditions, but this one he could take.

They were lounging around after dinner, Dean leaning with his back to the couch with Cas tucked between his legs and lying against his chest. Ever since Castiel fell (like, literally, hit the pavement as a human), he'd been drawn to physical contact with Dean. At night, it could mean the difference between a good night's sleep and horrific nightmares. When their friendship became… _this_… Castiel sought more and more of Dean's touch. Dean kind of thought Cas might be testing the waters with every touch, wondering how much the hunter would let him get away with. Because to hell with denying himself anymore, and because fuck if Cas didn't deserved it, Dean draped his arm over Castiel's shoulder. The former angel sank back into him contently, making Dean smile.

That is, until Sam brought up Bobby.

"Bobby called earlier," he told Zoë sitting almost shoulder to shoulder with him.

"When is he getting here?"

"About three on Wednesday. I figured I'd pick him up. I've got that evening shift I traded Wes for so I could take the Friday before the Christmas weekend off, but I should have time before that."

"I can't wait to meet him," Zoë said. "You guys really make him sound like quite the character."

"Bobby is definitely _that_," Sam agreed with a laugh.

"Bobby Singer is what many would call irascible," Castiel quipped.

"No, he's what _you_would call irascible, because no one else talks like that," Dean countered.

"I can't be held responsible for your limited vocabulary," Cas replied.

"_Limited_? I'll have you know I know lots of words. Big words."

"Why is their size significant?"

"Oh god," Sam groaned, "they're flirting again."

"We are not," Dean and Cas said in unison.

Sam shook his head while Zoë burst out laughing. "Oh, come on, that's adorable, Sam!"

While Dean took exception to being deemed 'adorable', anything that made his little brother uncomfortable was a win.

"Man, I can't wait until Bobby's here to take my side," Sam groaned.

That's when Dean went rigid.

Sam and Zoë kept on talking, but Cas felt Dean lock up behind him. He sat up and turned to level Dean with an inquisitive look. Dean was on the cusp of a genuine freak-out.

Retreat.

"Here, I'll get the dishes," Dean volunteered, jumping up and gathering up his and Castiel's plates. Sam and Zoë barely took note of his leaving to go into the kitchen.

Once there, Dean put the plates on the counter, braced his hands on the formica, and took several deep breaths. Fuck… how had this not occurred to him until _now_? He'd gotten so comfortable, he just stopped thinking like that.

Until he took one freaking second to actually imagine Bobby Singer in their living room at dinnertime.

"Dean?"

Dean turned to find Castiel entering the kitchen, Sam and Zoë's plates in hand.

Dean swallowed. "Hey."

Cas cocked his head and frowned at him, puzzled. He could see there was something wrong.

Dean turned to the sink so he wouldn't have to see that face. "You can leave those… I'll take care of them."

Castiel placed the two plates beside Dean. Then he paused. Dean tensed. He didn't want to do this now. Not now. He needed time to grapple with it first.

Castiel, bless him, got that. Just when he seemed about to reach out and touch Dean, he sighed and gave up… for the moment. "I'm going to bed."

"Yeah, sure… be up in a bit," Dean replied tightly.

Castiel turned to leave. Once he was gone, Dean planted his elbows on the edge of the sink and buried his face in his hands. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_! What the hell was he going to do?

He stayed downstairs until it was late and he was the last one up. He walked past the living room with its twinkling tree and trudged up the stairs. He slipped into the bedroom he and Castiel shared to find Cas already in bed, facing the window and its open curtains.

Dean skinned out of his pants and slipped under the covers.

He only had to lie there a few seconds listening to his bedmate's breathing to know that Castiel wasn't asleep.

But thing was… Dean still wasn't ready to talk. Not even close. But he knew his habit of shutting down could make Castiel think he'd done something wrong to trigger it. Dean sucked at talking, but he could let Cas know how he felt in other ways. Without a word, he shuffled over on the mattress to spoon around Castiel's back.

To find the ex-angel completely naked.

Castiel turned abruptly in his arms, pushed him onto his back, and smothered him in a kiss. Dean's hands went to Castiel's hair and fisted. He had no idea there was such urgent hunger in him until Castiel's mouth was on his, and suddenly it was imperative that Castiel _feel_it, everything Dean felt.

The fact that Castiel had been lying in wait, nude, meant Castiel knew Dean so fucking well.

Amid lips and tongue and teeth, Castiel drew back and found Dean's eyes in the sparse moonlight coming through the window. "Dean… are you all right?"

"I want you." Which didn't answer the question, not by a long shot, but it was what Dean could confess. He just needed Cas to not ask, needed Cas to get him to stop thinking.

The look in Castiel's night-dark eyes was briefly disappointed, sad, then Castiel was sliding a leg over Dean to straddle him. His slender hands were pushing up inside Dean's shirt while Dean's hips bucked. Castiel's thighs gripped him tighter, a soft-strong vice of human flesh and bone, and Dean's hands were traveling, mapping Cas in the dark. Not that Dean needed to. He knew this body, this soul, this man.

Castiel shucked Dean out of his shirt. He folded at the waist to bring his face to Dean's, panting hot in his ear while his hand slipped into Dean's boxers, and Dean let Castiel know him.

To Be Continued…


	3. Chapter 3

Sundays Dean normally woke up alone. Castiel got up early to attend church. At first, Dean had tried to go with him for Castiel's sake, but that had lasted all of two weeks before it came to a head. Dean could buck up and be the good little soldier with the best of them, so he was going to grit his teeth and do this because faith still meant a lot to Cas – and while God could go suck eggs as far as Dean was concerned, Cas was important to Dean – but Castiel saw Dean's 'take one for the team' act right away. And he wasn't pleased.

"I don't understand why you can go for the love of me, but not for the love of Him," Cas lamented.

"You should know the answer to that better than anyone, Cas."

"He's _God_… he deserves better than your mere tolerance in his house of worship."

"Well, sorry, but I can't care about him like you do."

"Why not?"

"Because other than you, he's never given me a damn thing."

Cas went quiet, looked long and hard at Dean, and eventually said in a calmer voice, "I see…"

"Don't, Cas… I know what you're thinking, and don't even go there. It's not that I don't… you know I…" Dean let out a frustrated sigh, "Look… before you fell, if I ever met God, I'd have nothing but shit to say to him. _Now_, if I met him… well, I'd still have a lot of shit to say to him… but I'd also thank him for giving me you." Castiel's stern look softened. "But one great thing in my life isn't enough, man… it can't make me _celebrate_him like you do. All it can do is make me think 'you fucked up a lot… but you got one thing right'. That's the best I got to offer him, Cas… and I'm sorry if that's not enough for you."

For a long time, neither of them spoke. Then Castiel said, "I don't blame you, Dean… yours has been a difficult path." Dean snorted. "But he's my Father, and he will always have my devotion. I know you understand _that_." And yeah, Dean did. To the towering heights of its greatest pathology, he got that. "So I will love Him enough for both of us." Castiel crowded into Dean's personal space. "And stop coming to church when you don't really want to be there… your indifference distracts me from my prayers."

Dean laughed and pulled Cas closer.

Ever since that argument, Cas got up Sundays and went to church while Dean slept in.

Strangely enough, not long after that fight, Sam started going to services with Cas. And apparently Sam meant it, because Castiel never asked Sam to stop going with him. It seemed really screwy to Dean that the angel cast of out Heaven and the former meat-puppet of Lucifer were finding God together, but Dean supposed odder things had happened.

That meant Dean's Sunday morning companion was Zoë. When her parents were possessed by demons and killed by hunters, her feelings toward a higher power went from mostly-agnostic to antagonistic. She decided any God that would let that happen to her parents was a God she wanted no part of… and _that_Dean got.

When Dean hauled his ass downstairs, he found Zoë standing in front of the tree, her back to him as she just sort of stared at the mass of lights and ornaments. She was swimming in one of Sam's shirts, and really, all she needed was a belt to make that thing a dress. Her feet were bare, and Dean couldn't help but think that Cas would be bitching about how cold the floor was in her place.

"Hey, Zo," Dean grumbled sleepily as he came up behind her.

She startled and looked back at him. "Oh… morning, Dean."

Dean came up alongside her. "What's up?"

Zoë gnawed on her bottom lip and frowned while she turned a small, wrapped rectangular box over in her hands. Dean had seen enough watch boxes to know one when he saw it, wrapped in Christmas paper or not.

"Um… nothing… well, no… I just… I have a present for Sam," Zoë looked down uncertainly at the box, "I just don't know if he's going to like it."

Dean looked down under the tree. There weren't many gifts there. While Dean and Sam had relented to the freaking festive explosion in the house, they'd balked at effusive gift-giving. It seemed so trite and _pointless_when just having a real Christmas was more than they could have imagined a year ago. Plus, a full-out, three hundred sixty degree Christmas was a concept the warped and damaged Winchesters would need to ease into.

So the landscape under the tree was pretty barren. There was a badly-wrapped package from Dean to Cas, an envelope addressed to Dean in Castiel's precise hand-writing, a bottle of the good stuff for Bobby in a gift bag, a modest-sized box addressed to Dean and Cas together from both Sam and Zoë, and (without any agreement before-hand on the couple gift-giving) a small envelope for Sam and Zoë from Dean and Cas. That was it. Sam and Dean hadn't even gotten each other gifts, and their 'others' had refrained from gifting each other. Dean had noticed the lack of gifts between Sam and Zoë, but just assumed the presents they were exchanging were of the bedroom variety that couldn't be wrapped and put under the tree.

Maybe he ought to suggest that to Zoë, because obviously she was worried a watch wouldn't be much of a present. No way Sam would ever not like a sex gift from his girlfriend.

Or maybe Dean could practice a little restraint and good taste. If Sam _and_Cas agreed he could use some work on those, there must be something to it.

"Whatever you give Sam, he's going to like it," Dean assured. It was a real Christmas present…it could be a dead cricket in there and Sam would light up.

Zoë nodded distractedly, "Yeah… I hope so." She bent down and added her small box to the pithy pile.

"Sam say what they were bringing back after church?" Dean asked. As a concession to those at home dubious at best about the man upstairs, Sam and Cas picked up lunch on their way home.

"Cas mentioned something about Hildegard's," Zoë mumbled.

"Because nothing says Christmas like curly fries."

That finally got Zoë to crack a smile. Then, without warning, she turned to face him, all seriousness. "Dean… do you think Sam's happy?"

"Huh?"

"Do you think Sam's happy here?"

Dean blinked, taken aback at the blunt question. Seemed Dean wasn't the only one having a little holiday freak-out moment.

That was a quirk of Zoë's… she seemed carefree on the surface, but when her no-nonsense side came out, it did on a dime. That was when Dean saw the damaged person the demons had left behind when they got her parents killed. He actually admired how normal and _not_-fucked up she seemed the rest of the time. That was a trick he'd never really mastered. Out of respect for the survivor Zoë was, Dean always gave her a straight answer where his instinct had always been to lie. "Yeah, I think he is." He thought a moment. "I'd say Sam and I are both the happiest we've been in a long time… if ever."

Little by little, Zoë visibly relaxed. "Thanks… I needed to hear that."

Awful lot of fretting over a watch, if you ask Dean. Though maybe he should just take heart that Zoë was going to such lengths to make this Christmas so special for Sam. The kid fucking deserved it.

"So…" Zoë said, "what's this Bobby Singer like?"

And just like that, all of _Dean's_issues came flying back into his face. The cozy aura of Sunday morning was instantly gone.

"Uh… well… kind of a hard guy to describe, really. He's a hunter… been in the business a long time. Rough around the edges, but he's the one you want at your back when the shit hits the fan." His worthiness as a comrade-in-arms probably wasn't what Zoë meant when she asked about Bobby, but it was one of the best things about Bobby that came to mind when Dean was put to the question. It probably said a lot about Dean's psyche that _that_was the first measure of a person that came to mind for him. It was really in the million little ways that the depth to which they were stained 'hunter' came out in this transition to civilian living.

"Sam said he's like a father to you guys."

"He is… and Sam would say a damn sight better than our real one…" Dean added under his breath, "not that it would take much."

Zoë made a face. "I was kind of hoping you'd say he was just a friend who needed a place to go for Christmas… now I feel all this pressure to make a good impression."

Dean chuckled, "What, and if he was just some drinking buddy without a family for the holidays you'd put forth zero effort?"

"No… I might _bathe_."

"Eh, don't worry… Bobby's all bark. Get to know him, and he's a big teddy bear." Dean paused, "But if you tell him I said that, I'll steal the alternator out of your car and hide it somewhere you'll never find it."

Zoë giggled. "I make no promises if you or Sam get me drunk."

"Keep Zoë Harrison sober all through Christmas, got it."

"Since it's clearly _imperative_I not slip up, I'll keep out of the eggnog this Christmas," Zoë quipped.

Dean hated the long-term sobriety of anyone being on his conscious, but in this case he'd make an exception.

The two of them were still standing in front of the tree talking when Sam and Cas came through the front door. Cas was hunched in his permanent winter stoop of misery, clutching a plastic bag close to his chest (Dean suspected more for the heat from the food inside than fear it would drop). He caught sight of the two by the tree and announced, "We have curly fries."

"Hallelujah," Dean drawled with a wink.

Before Cas could decide if Dean was blaspheming, Sam came inside and closed the door behind him, doing a quick-step in place to warm himself. "Man, it's getting cold out there."

Dean beckoned Castiel to him. "C'mere, Cas."

Cas went, as always, and when he reached Dean, Dean took the food from him, set it down on the coffee table, and wrapped Castiel up in a big hug. Castiel sank into the warmth, sighing as he snaked his arms around Dean's waist. And Dean may be blasphemous, but he was also forgiven.

"One day," Sam groaned, "I'd like to go just one day without having to see my brother and his boyfriend all over each other."

That earned Sam a swat on the arm from Zoë, but also made Dean freeze up. Cas felt it and pulled away, giving Dean a wounded, confused look as he went.

Dean sighed… and the day had started out so well, too.

To Be Continued…


	4. Chapter 4

"Dean… your brother's here," Tony said.

Dean looked up from the engine of a Mitsubishi and saw Sam standing behind Tony, his boss at the garage/auto shop. Dean stood up, wiping his hands on a shop rag. "Thanks, Tony."

When Tony walked off, Dean stepped toward Sam, "Dude, what's up?" Sam didn't normally meet Dean at the shop. Slowly (and sometimes painfully) they'd ceased to live in each other's back pocket like they used to on the hunt; Dean fully expected to see Sam when he got home after work and not a minute before.

"Nothing, just thought I'd ride home with you."

"Ride home… where were you before this?"

"The library."

Dean snorted. "Figures. What do you _do_ there now anyway? I mean, no need to _research_anymore."

"I know this comes as a complete shock to you, but there are entire shelves of books in the library devoted to literature that exists just for the sake of reading."

"What shocks me is that such an enormous nerd exists. I thought that level of nerd-dom ranked up there with Bigfoot in the 'no fucking way' category."

"Ha ha."

Dean went back to the peering under the hood of the car. What he really longed for was his sawed-off and some jumbo salt rounds. Being put down would be the kindest thing for the car in front of him. "Well, I'm gonna need a few more minutes with this POS. Seriously, why does anyone buy foreign?"

"Fuel economy, reliability, depreciation value…" Sam started to list off on his fingers.

"Shut your pie hole before I decide you're bad-mouthing my baby," Dean warned.

Sam snorted and hung back near the tool boxes while Dean worked. Dean caught more than one look at his brother while the giant wasn't looking, and Dean knew something was up, even if Sam had said otherwise. He wondered if it was the same thing that had been getting his panties in a twist for over a week.

Dean dreaded this meant a 'talk' was in his near future. Talks sucked. It made for a tense last hour at work.

Just as Dean suspected, as soon as he and Sam slid into the Impala, Dean behind the wheel and Sam in the passenger seat – and fuck, was it like old times, and no matter how much Dean dug this semi-apple-pie normal they had going now, there were days he ached for the open road so much he could feel it in his bones – Sam looked down at his hands and stumbled to say, "Actually… there was something I wanted to tell you."

Figured. Dean braced himself. "Yeah, I guessed as much. All right, what is it?" For almost two weeks, Dean had been imagining the worst. Sam's visions were coming back. He'd heard about a poltergeist in all his 'recreational' reading at the library. Lucifer had been invading his dreams. He had cancer. Every awful thing imaginable had flitted through Dean's head, and now he'd finally see which ugly thing won the lottery.

"I'm going to ask Zoë to marry me."

Dean gaped, speechless. Sam looked up at him, nervous and expectant.

Finally, Dean answered, "That's it?"

Sam made his patented bitch-face. "What do you mean, _that's it_? That's huge! I'm going to ask Zoë if she's crazy enough to marry a Winchester. You know if she has any sense, she's going to say no."

Dean couldn't help it… he laughed.

Sam was not amused. "Dude, what the hell? I was hoping you'd be a little supportive! Not laugh in my face."

"I'm sorry, I'm not… just… geez, Sam, you have any idea the crap I was thinking up for what was bugging you?"

"You knew I was worried?"

That earned Sam a scowl. "This is me you're talking to. Of course I fucking knew. Shit, I was thinking it was something I should really be worrying about."

"Well, how about you worry about this?" Sam yelped.

Dean collected himself. "So what, you're scared she'll say no?"

"Of course I am."

"She won't say no."

"How do you know?"

Dean might have spilled it all then… how he knew Heaven had made the match between them. That it was meant to be in the least-girly way possible. Or maybe in Sam's case, the most Disney-princess way possible… with the luscious locks of hair and all.

But he didn't. "Dude, she won't."

"She might."

"She won't… trust me." With that, Dean started the car and began the drive home.

Five minutes had passed before Sam spoke again. "So… aren't you going to try to talk me out of it? Tell me Winchesters don't settle, we're hunters, all that lone wolf, rolling stone crap?"

Without taking his eyes from the road, Dean just answered, "Nope."

The silence was incredulous. Of course, Sam couldn't leave that alone. "Really. You're not going to say 'Sam, this is a bad idea, I knew it the second you suggested we move in her with, I knew you couldn't not get attached'."

"Nope."

Another long silence.

"Dean, are you feeling all right?"

Dean finally looked over at his brother. "What, just because I'm not going to tell you not to marry this girl, I must be running a fever?"

"Well…"

And Dean figured he understood where Sam was coming from. That had always been Dean's stance on the topic of relationships: don't do it, don't even think about it, it's not for the Winchester men. But he also didn't see how he had much room to cast stones anymore… a saying Castiel taught him, to really drive home the irony. "Look, I like her. I can tell you love her. And Zoë's good for you." Dean couldn't count the number of times he'd seen his brother smile just in the last few months… maybe more than he had in the last six years. "I think you should do it. And she's going to say yes."

For a moment, Sam didn't say anything. When he did, it was simply, "Wow."

"Wow what?"

"Cas has _really_domesticated you."

Dean shot out a hand to hit his brother on the arm. "Bitch."

"Jerk," Sam countered, rubbing his arm, but there was a trace of laughter in his voice.

"Uh… speaking of Cas, though," Dean said, "can I tell him?" Because Dean was apparently that guy now, the one who told his partner everything. It felt like coming clean, because secrets had done so much damage to the Winchesters over the years.

Except that one thing Dean hadn't worked up the guts to confess to Castiel yet. Dean's hands gripped the steering wheel tighter.

"I guess so… as long as he doesn't say anything to Zoë."

"I'll swear him to secrecy; if you can't trust an angel's word, whose can you trust?"

Neither of them said anything about just how many angels they'd known that they wouldn't trust any farther than they could throw them. Those angels didn't matter anymore, because they were in reangelfying boot camp up in Heaven. The only remotely angelic presence on Earth anymore was the memories of grace that lingered in Castiel.

Dean might still have his own issue gnawing at him, but at least now he didn't also have to worry about what Sam was hiding from him. Thank fuck that it wasn't something _bad_.

Sam and Zoë, married. They were going to make a sickeningly good couple. And Sam would finally get to have what he'd wanted since he was a kid… a normal life. Who the hell would have thought it would ever happen for either Winchester, let alone both of them? While Dean's situation with Cas might not be exactly 'normal', it was the closest Dean was ever going to get, and he was totally cool with that. Enough for it to count, in any case.

Though he'd been avoiding it thus far, Dean reached down and turned on the radio, knowing it would be stuffed to the gills with Christmas songs. He was kind of in the Christmas spirit.

* * *

><p>Dean never had any intention of telling Zoë that one of the men living with her had once been a badass angel of the Lord. It wasn't that he didn't trust her, or that it could be dangerous to know the truth (not now that the supernatural world was in lock-down), but he just didn't see any reason to tell her. Cas was human now – would be for the rest of his mortal life – so what he was before didn't really seem relevant. Then, after a while, it stopped seeming like something it was his place to divulge. If anyone was told about Cas's former identity, it should be Castiel doing the telling.<p>

Though the brothers never discussed it, Sam seemed to be of a mind with Dean on the matter. For all the things Sam confided to Zoë (even shit that used to be taboo as hunters living incognito in a civilian world), the truth about Castiel's past was never among them.

And since Castiel never brought it up, the Winchesters assumed it was something he'd preferred not be discussed. Which was fine with them. Fact of the matter was, even though Zoë knew a hell of a lot more than any civilian about the Winchesters' past, there were plenty of things she still didn't know. She had no idea Dean had been to Hell; Dean was pretty sure Sam hadn't been in any hurry to admit he'd jump-started the Apocalypse (which might well have had some part in the eventual possession of her parents, though even the brothers didn't talk about that with each other). Some things were just never polite dinner conversation.

As part of bringing Cas up to speed on pop culture in America, Dean made it a point to show Castiel one must-see movie a week. It wasn't long before Sam and Zoë seized on 'movie night' and joined in (even if Zoë had no idea of the purpose behind it). It became a Monday-night thing in the Harrison-Winchester household, and even if the true function kind of strayed (because no fucking way was The Notebook on Dean's 'Cas must see this' list), it turned out it was kind of fun. Because without hunting, Dean and Sam actually didn't have a hell of a lot in common. Sam was a bookworm, and Dean wasn't going to read now that it wasn't required for a hunt. Dean could spend all day under his car, lovingly tending to her because she had been and always would be home, while Sam was making the transition from the car being home to the house being home at an impressive rate of speed (leaving the Impala as mere transportation). The brothers were really not at all alike outside of the hunt.

But whatever they did separately throughout the week, it was nice to get together and share something once a week. Castiel accused Dean of being highly family-oriented. Whatever. All Dean knew was he liked sitting around with Cas, Sam, and Zoë watching Raiders of the Lost Ark.

That week the movie was a Charlie Brown Christmas. Castiel had puzzled at being inducted into holiday films with a cartoon, but even Dean had to admit Charlie Brown was a classic. Even the Winchesters brothers, hit-or-miss as they were on holiday staples, had caught the Charlie Brown special on motel basic cable on more than one Christmas growing up. They could _almost_pretend it was one of their childhood fixtures.

Dean and Cas sat shoulder-to-shoulder on the couch, a blanket spread across both laps, while Sam crammed his ginormous frame into the recliner and Zoë climbed onto his lap and snuggled up like a puppy. Dean thought the poor recliner might give out under his brother's weight alone, but he didn't say so. Besides, Charlie Brown wasn't very long.

When it was over, Dean glanced over at Castiel and nudged him with his shoulder. "So? What did you think?"

"Linus was a sagacious character," Cas replied gravely. "He's very complex. His speech on the meaning of Christmas was quite insightful."

Sam barked out a laugh. Zoë put her head on Sam's chest, tucked under his chin, and smiled. "I always loved a Charlie Brown Christmas. No matter how old you get, you never outgrow that one." Sam snaked his arms around her small body, looking like King Kong getting touchy with Fay Wray. Zoë pressed in closer. Dean smirked. Yeah… Sam was an idiot for worrying that Zoë was going to turn down his marriage proposal.

"Actually, the first time I saw this was the day I met my childhood best friend," Zoë added. "Her family had just moved in down the street, and Mom and Dad," Zoë paused, like the sentence had been abruptly cleaved in half with a knife. Sam hugged her tighter. Zoë winced and continued, "Mom and Dad brought Katie over, it was close to Christmas… I was a shy kid, so Mom put this in for us to watch. We were fast friends by the time it was over."

"That's sweet," Sam cooed. He was so pathetically head-over-heels. Dean stretched his arm along the back of the couch behind Cas.

"Where is your friend now?" Castiel asked.

"Oh, she moved away years ago… I still email with her now and then, though." Zoë lifted her head from Sam's chest, narrowed her eyes curiously at Dean and Cas, and asked, "How did you two meet?"

It was such an innocent question… for anyone but Dean Winchester and Castiel.

Dean shot a look over at Cas. They'd never been asked. Their social circle here in Ohio was pretty small. Of course, the guys at Tony's knew Dean was with another man. Dean made absolutely no attempt to hide it; Dean could give a shit less what they thought about his life choices. If they had the slightest clue what Dean's life had been like before now, they'd know he'd fucking _earned_it.

Most of the people at work didn't care who Dean slept with, but some of the guys at the garage had been less-than-happy about working with a 'homo' when they first found out and gave Dean a hard time about it. But that didn't last long… they hadn't expected a 'queer' to be so good in a bar brawl. The main culprits had been two coworkers from the garage, Jeff and Chad, who caught Dean out with Cas having a drink one night. Dean suffered their taunts at the shop because for once he actually wanted to keep a job, but the bar was fair game. At the first insult they let fly, Dean let his fists fly. Tony acted like he had no clue why Jeff and Chad showed up to work Monday black and blue or why Dean's fists were bruised, but the harassment stopped. Jeff and Chad might not approve, but they had better sense than to heckle someone so good in a fight. So people knew, and some of them accepted it grudgingly, but that didn't mean anyone asked how the two of them met.

Normally, Dean would come up with some story. He used to lie professionally… he was good at thinking on his feet. But this wasn't a stranger, this was Zoë. The woman was going to be Sam's wife. Should they lie to her? Dean could see the same 'deer in the headlights' look on Sam's face. He didn't know how to answer either.

Castiel spared them all having to make the awkward decision. "I fought through the hordes of Hell to rescue Dean."

Dean held his breath. Sam did, too. Zoë's brow furrowed in confusion (she'd clearly been expecting a _human_story, at the very least). "Huh?"

"Uh, yeah… something about Castiel you don't know…" then Sam fumbled for words. Dean knew why. After what happened to her parents, Zoë was gun-shy to anything not natural.

And she had a good instinct for weird-ass shit. She was already tensing up, pulling away from Sam like she was getting ready to put some distance between her and them.

Sam hurried to say, "No, it's nothing bad. Come on, it's _Castiel_. And I know you're probably going to freak out a little, but just hear us out, okay?"

Zoë slid off Sam's lap, stood up, and backed away. "What… are you trying to tell me he's a demon?"

And really, it made sense her mind would go there. It was her fear, her phobia, demons ruining her life again. She was damaged, no matter how well she faked being _not_.

"Hell no," Dean answered, offended on Castiel's behalf.

Castiel, as ever, was calm and collected. "I am not, nor have I ever been, a demon. I'm human. But I haven't always been."

"Then what _were_you?" she asked sharply.

"I was an angel of the Lord."

Everyone just froze, waiting for the fallout. Zoë's eyes widened and she gaped at Castiel. Finally, she spoke. "You're joking, right?"

"I'm not."

"An _angel_?"

Sam made his appeal. "Come on, Zo… you know the bad things exist. Why can't the good things exist, too?"

Zoë looked from Sam to Castiel, wary and uncertain. She was trying to be open-minded, but her conditioned response to the inhuman was hard to overcome. "An angel…"

"That's right," Dean said. "With the wings and the smiting and everything."

"Whoa…"

"You asked how Dean and I met; I could not answer your question if you didn't know what I used to be."

Things were getting tense, and Dean didn't like how vulnerable he felt sitting there. He stood up. Zoë's eyes went to him immediately. Dean hadn't really meant to take the stage, as it were, but he might as well. This next part was his story, anyway.

"You know that before we met you, Sam and I got into some pretty awful shit." Zoë gave a slow nod. "Well… few years back, my pain-in-the-ass brother went and got himself killed."

Zoë's eyes went wide and flew to Sam, and the wariness and guardedness were gone in a moment of panic and fear to hear that Sam had _died_. That was good. At least she still cared.

Sam grimaced. "It was a pretty shitty situation… we don't talk about it much."

"Shitty is putting it mildly," Dean growled. "I wasn't about to just let my little brother stay _dead_… so I summoned a demon and made a deal. My soul for Sam's life."

Zoë's mouth hung agape.

"They brought Sam back, and things were good for a while… then my deal came due, and I went to Hell." There was so much more to it than just that, there was all the crap Dean suffered and all the shit Dean did down there, but Zoë didn't need to know any of that. She never needed to know any of it.

"You're talking about actual, literal, fire-and-brimstone _Hell_," Zoë said.

"Wish I wasn't." Dean felt nauseous just talking about it, like he'd swallowed lava and it was burning to crawl back up his throat. "That's where I met Cas." Not that Dean remembered meeting Castiel then – Dean's first concrete memory of Cas was in the barn – but Castiel remembered it.

"I went to Hell to save him. I gripped Dean tight and raised him from perdition."

Not realizing he was doing it, Dean's hand went to the raised scar on his shoulder in the shape of Castiel's hand. He might not remember details, but he had vague impressions of memories, somatic reactions that coiled around his nervous system when he thought about being _saved_. When he tried to recall Castiel fighting off _Hell_to free him.

"Show her, Dean," Sam urged. Dean stopped kneading the scar on his shoulder and looked toward his brother, confused. When Dean understood what the hell Sam was talking about, he shrugged and rolled up his shirt sleeve. He didn't make a habit of walking around the house shirtless… Zoë had never seen the mark before.

Her eyes fell on the handprint and she gawked. "Holy shit."

Dean chortled. "Yeah, pretty much."

"Wow…" Zoë muttered, dumbstruck. At least she didn't sound borderline hostile anymore. "Angels… I never even believed in angels before…"

"Neither did I," Dean said, rolling down his sleeve, "but this guy showing up blowing out windows and flashing his wings convinced me otherwise."

"You have wings?" Zoë marveled at Castiel.

"I did, yes."

Zoë began edging back toward the group, not so much aghast as curious now. "So what happened? How did you go from being an angel to being a human?"

Dean groaned, because he knew what was coming. He knew how it sounded, too.

"I chose to fall to be with Dean." And there was a lot more to that, too, but again… Zoë didn't need to know all the details. Some things were Dean and Castiel's.

After a second to process that, Zoë's hand went to her chest and Dean could almost fucking swear she teared up. "Oh, god… that is so _sweet_!" She looked toward Sam, who was giving her a sappy 'you are so right, it's beautiful' smile (bastard was just trying to get back in her good graces). She sucked in a breath, "Wow, that is so City of Angels."

"I don't understand that reference," Castiel said with a puzzled head tilt.

"It's a movie, Cas," Dean grumbled. And he thought his and Cas's story was way better than that sucky Meg Ryan movie, but saying so would pretty much relinquish his right to have balls.

"You would love it, Castiel," Zoë assured, warming to the notion (and Castiel, the only-recently-turned-human houseguest, with it), "it's an angel who falls for the love of a human."

"I see… I think I would like to see that."

Dean wished, for a moment, that Zoë had just run screaming from the room. At least that wouldn't involve watching any chick flicks. "Well, count me out… Nicholas Cage is on my extreme douche list."

"Very few people aren't," Sam pointed out as he stood. He looked to Zoë, "Zo… are you okay? I mean, are we all good?"

Zoë looked between the three men. Her eyes stayed the longest on Castiel, as if taking the measure of him in light of what she'd learned, but Dean knew the uber-puppy 'I wouldn't hurt a fly' look Castiel had down pat. Never mind he'd been a freaking warrior of God longer than humanity had been around. "Yeah, I… I'm sorry I reacted like that. I should have known Castiel could never have been a demon. I'm sorry for thinking it, Castiel."

"It's quite understandable. No offense was taken."

"You two watch a chick flick, bond," Sam urged eagerly, "I'll go set up Bobby's bed in the spare room."

Like a reflex, Dean stiffened.

"Dean… want to help?"

"Yeah, sure." Dean started toward the stairs with Sam.

"Dean?"

Dean turned at Zoë's voice. She crossed the room to stand in front of him. She looked up at him, searched his face, then said, "You traded your soul for Sam to live."

Dean shrugged. "He's my brother… it was never an option not to."

Without warning, Zoë threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tight. She whispered in his ear, "Thank you."

Like Dean needed thanks for what he'd done. He'd do it again if he had to. "Just make sure this doofus doesn't let it happen again," Dean quipped.

Zoë nodded against his neck, finally let go, and stepped back. Dean glanced toward Cas on the couch. The ex-angel was watching Dean intently, as ever. Dean gave him a tight smile. "Don't stay up too late."

Castiel just watched him, his gaze far too knowing.

Dean swallowed and beat a hasty retreat with Sam to the library upstairs, where they'd put a roll-away bed for Bobby's visit.

To Be Continued…


	5. Chapter 5

After he and his brother put the sheets and covers on the bed where Bobby would be sleeping, Dean went to the master bedroom he shared with Cas and got ready for bed. Castiel was still downstairs watching City of Angels with Zoë. He wondered how they were getting along, how Zoë was handling the fact that she was watching television with a former angel. But he didn't wonder enough to go down there and see for himself. He wasn't really up for it.

He hoped he would be asleep by the time Castiel came to bed, but Cas came up about an hour later and Dean was still lying wide awake. He didn't turn to acknowledge Cas, hoping Castiel would take the hint and slip quietly into bed and go to sleep.

Instead, Castiel went right to the bed, drew back the covers, and crowded in against Dean on his side.

"Whoa, Cas, what…?"

Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean's waist and clung tightly to him. When Dean looked over at him, Castiel's eyes were scary-intent. "Do not _ever_ ride a bicycle in the road. Or if you do, don't you _dare_close your eyes."

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes. "Dude… after all the shit I've lived through, you think it's going to be a bike-versus-car accident that gets me?" Dean turned to lie facing Castiel. Castiel readjusted his arms around Dean, but he did not loosen his grip. In fact, Castiel held him tighter… Dean was too man to admit it was actually starting to hurt.

"This human life is so fragile, Dean… and I couldn't bear losing you."

It was the first time Cas had ever said anything like that. He'd told Dean he loved him, sure, so it might be understood, but Castiel never said _that_before. Dean was surprised at how hard it hit him in the gut, how tight it closed up in his throat. "You won't," Dean whispered.

Castiel slid a leg between Dean's. His hands let go their death-grip on him to slip inside his shirt, running his palms over the bare skin of Dean's back.

Dean caught his arm to stop him. "Hey, Cas… just… let's just go to sleep, okay?"

Castiel paused, and Dean knew it was suspicious as hell. When _didn't_he want sex? Castiel's hand slid out of Dean's shirt only to lay across his forehead the next.

Dean swatted it away with a tense chuckle. "I'm not sick… I just don't feel like it, okay?"

"Okay, Dean," Castiel replied, but he sounded distant. Rebuffed. Dean scowled, hating himself just a little. "Hey," he whispered, catching Castiel's cheek in one hand. Then he just locked up. Like he always fucking did. He stared deep into Castiel's eyes, willing him to get what Dean couldn't manage to say.

Castiel always did. His expression softened a little, and he said gently, "I love you, too."

Dean let him go then, and Castiel went to the bathroom to get ready for bed. He came back and wordlessly got into bed on his side. He turned to face the window with its open curtains, forever seeking sky. It wasn't long before Dean could tell from the sound of his breathing that he was asleep.

Usually, even when Dean was having trouble nodding off, the rhythm of Castiel's breathing could lull him to sleep. Not this time. Dean lay awake at least another hour before he gave up. Slipping carefully out of bed, so as not to wake Cas, he padded out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

The living room was glowing with the lights of the tree as Dean crossed to the kitchen. He poured himself a shot of bourbon and downed it like he used to back in the old days, when he was drinking to dull the pain. He set the glass down and braced his arms on the counter, letting it take some of his weight. The house was quiet. Dean could smell the pine from the living room. It was so damn peaceful, and yet tonight Dean felt trapped between a rock and a hard place.

Dean threw back another shot before he put the glass in the sink and stared into nothing, his mind racing. He'd been looking forward to Bobby's visit for months, and now that it was staring him down he was fucking petrified.

There wasn't a hell of a lot that could scare Dean.

"Dean?"

Dean startled and turned to find Castiel standing in the kitchen entrance, bare feet sticking out the bottom of his pajama pants, at odds with the worn Metallica t-shirt he'd stolen from Dean for a sleep shirt. His dark hair was mussed… no one did bed-head like Cas. Normally, it made Dean yearn to run his fingers through it… now it just made his stomach clench.

"Hey, Cas…" he cleared his throat, still burning from bourbon, "what are you doing up?"

Castiel shuffled closer. "I had a nightmare."

Because Dean wasn't there. It lingered in the air between them, unspoken. It was never meant as an accusation, but Dean always felt it like one. "Sorry."

Castiel stopped in front of him, a little shy of invading Dean's personal space, which Dean noticed immediately. The shit Cas said without saying a word, the cues from his body, were easier for Dean to read with every passing day. Dean thought that one day, maybe not too far from now, he'd get a novel in a glance just from reading Castiel's body language… the way he could with Sam.

"What are you doing?" Castiel asked softly.

"Couldn't sleep," Dean answered edgily.

Castiel stared long and hard at him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

A beat. "Then why are you behaving strangely every time someone mentions Bobby?"

Dean's heart hammered. His eyes flew to Castiel's. There was quiet concern in those familiar blue eyes. And really, he should have known that he couldn't get that past Cas.

Didn't mean he wanted to fess up to it, though. Dean groaned and raked a hand through his hair. "Fuck… okay, the thing is…" Dean looked carefully at Cas. "Bobby doesn't know about… us."

Castiel began to frown.

"I didn't mean to keep it a secret or anything, it just never came up, and now he's going to _be here_, and I'm just… I guess I'm kind of freaking out."

Castiel cocked his head. "You think Bobby will disapprove."

Dean reached out and snagged Castiel by the hips, pulling him closer, into that territory that was all Castiel's (where he should have been anyway). "Hey, look at me." Castiel did. "I'm not ashamed of you. You know that. I never tried to hide _us_from the guys at the garage."

Castiel nodded slowly. "But Bobby's opinion matters to you."

Dean sighed. "Yeah… I know, I shouldn't be freaking out, but… Bobby's just…" Dean drew Castiel closer. "I'm going to tell him, I will… I just… I have to figure out how. So, uh… until I do… you think we could just… be a little less obvious?" Because Sam was right about one thing, Dean and Cas were pretty touchy on a daily basis. Cas kept pushing his luck, seeing where Dean would draw the line, and Dean had yet to.

"If that's what you want," Castiel answered.

"And I was thinking… just until I tell him… I could sleep on the couch."

Castiel did not meet his eyes. "Whatever you think best."

Dean dipped his head to catch Castiel's eyes. Castiel looked up and slowly lifted his face to his. "I mean it… I'm going to tell him. I just… it's stupid, but I just never planned how this was going to play out. And I don't really know what Bobby will think. But I want to ease him into it, just in case… he doesn't need to catch us in a compromising position and for _that_to be how he finds out. I owe it to him to break the news to him a little gentler than that."

Castiel barely smirked. "I understand. I never really considered how difficult this would be for you. I have no family to fear rejection from for loving you." No family that he would ever see again for the rest of his life. "Bobby has been an important figure in your life for a very long time… you should tell him the way you want to."

Dean smiled softly, feeling a wash of relief. "Thanks, Cas. You're awesome."

Castiel leaned closer. "So, while Bobby's here, I shouldn't do this…" Castiel closed his lips, wet and feather-soft, against Dean's throat. "Or this…" He pressed closer to scrape his teeth across Dean's skin in a gentle bite. Dean groaned, gripping Castiel's hips tighter.

"And I should most certainly not do this," Castiel growled as he pressed their pelvises together, pinning Dean against the counter with his body.

"Fuck…" Dean hissed.

"We should most definitely not do that while Bobby's here," Cas countered coyly.

Dean yanked Castiel tight against him and closed his teeth on the skin of his shoulder. He bit down just enough to make Castiel gasp, arching into Dean involuntarily, all firmness and warmth. Dean shifted to a new patch of skin and bit again.

"Don't leave any marks," Castiel warned breathlessly, and naturally that meant it was the one thing Dean wanted to do more than anything.

He may have anyway (Cas had some turtlenecks, it was doable) if a third voice hadn't interrupted them. "Whoa!"

Dean and Cas broke apart and looked to see Zoë frozen on her way to the kitchen.

"What, is everybody up in the middle of the night in this house?" Dean asked gruffly. He pointedly kept Castiel in front of him to save the situation being even more embarrassing.

"Sam's dead to the world, trust me," Zoë replied, and a little twinkle in her eye left no doubt in Dean's mind as to why. Dean almost cracked a joke about that, but figured he wouldn't have a lot of room to taunt when he'd just been caught making out with Cas (and was still sporting a boner from it).

"Sorry to interrupt," Zoë said as she went to the refrigerator, "but you two _do_have a bedroom for that."

"We apologize for our indiscretion," Castiel said lowly, and Dean really hoped he was the only one who could detect the gravelly roughness to his voice.

"At least I walked in before it got too racy," Zoë countered, "From the things I've heard, Sam hasn't always been so lucky."

"Hey," Dean said indignantly. A poke in the ribs from Cas let Dean know that, yeah, he really didn't have a leg to stand on with that one.

Zoë shut the fridge door, bottle of water in hand, and smiled at them. "Goodnight, guys."

When Zoë was gone, Castiel looked back at Dean and shuffled closer to him. "She's right… we do have a bedroom, and Bobby's not here _yet_."

Dean liked where Castiel's mind was. "When you have a point, you have a…" Dean frowned and glanced down, "are you standing on my feet?"

"The floor is cold."

Dean chuckled. "Won't be cold between the sheets… you coming?"

"I will be," Castiel answered, and it could be taken so innocuously, but there was a hint of _intent_ beneath the words that Dean picked up on right away. Dean shot a look at him, wondering if he had imagined it, because it was almost dirty talk and _so_not Castiel's style…

Castiel smirked.

Dean bit back a laugh, couldn't help himself, and started to laugh anyway. He pulled Cas close and muffled his laugh against Castiel's neck. "How the hell do you manage awkward and hot at the same time?"

"You might call it a God-given talent."

"I've got a God-given talent for you," Dean promised, pushing Castiel off his feet so he could lead him to the bedroom. They had a weekend-worth of sex to stockpile before Bobby's arrival.

To Be Continued…


	6. Chapter 6

When Dean got home from work Wednesday afternoon, Bobby was already there. The first thing Dean saw when he walked in the front door was a pair a suitcases in the foyer. He didn't recognize the luggage; Bobby the hunter, like the Winchesters, had always been a duffel-bag packer. And yet there they were, two proper suitcases. Seemed weird normality was worming its way into all the unguarded cracks of the ex-hunters' lives, no matter where they lived. Because even if he'd never seen them before, Dean knew the suitcases could only belong to Bobby.

Dean felt a pulse of terror jolt through him. Fight or flight kicked in big time, and it was only stubbornness that kept Dean in place. He beat it back valiantly before he called out, "Hey! Anybody home?"

"In the kitchen!" Sam called back. Dean girded himself and headed in that direction.

Bobby, Sam, Castiel, and Zoë were all sitting at the table, each with a drink (ranging from coffee to soda). Dean might have enjoyed the moment, seeing everyone he cared about together in one room without it being some 'end of the world' meeting, but he couldn't help the flicker of his eyes between Bobby and Castiel before he said, "Hey, Bobby!"

Bobby stood and wrapped the Winchester in a hug. "Good to see you, son."

"You too… how's civilian life been treating you?"

Bobby stepped back. "Not too bad. Course, I still sleep with a gun in easy reach and salt lining the windows."

"Yeah, well, who doesn't?" Dean countered easily. They did. They all did. The Harrison house still proudly wore the protective warding Dean and Cas had put there when they first moved in, before they discovered it was no longer necessary. What with the Christmas decorations all over the place, it looked like a weird meeting of Christian and pagan.

"Well, what did I miss?" Dean asked as he moved into the kitchen, heading for the fridge and a beer. His eyes skittered to Cas, moved quickly away, then settled on anyone but the former angel.

"Not much, just catching up," Sam replied.

"And getting to know this lovely young lady," Bobby said with a gesture toward Zoë.

"I shouldn't have been worried," Zoë said with an easy smile, "Bobby's a real doll."

"Don't be fooled, he's hitting on you," Dean replied, and when Zoë glanced at him, Dean mouthed 'teddy bear'.

"Might be if I didn't have to compete with this," Bobby jerked his thumb at Sam. "Actually, I was just saying how you boys sure have done well for yourselves."

Dean looked at Cas before he could help it. Castiel was watching him, like he always was. Dean's eyes immediately went elsewhere. He hoped to hell he wasn't blushing as he cleared his throat. "Yeah… who would have thought Sam would find a chick who'd put up with this sorry lot moving into her house?"

Dean was getting some 'disapproving Sammy' vibes, but Dean just scowled at him. He'd told Sam and Zoë how he and Cas were going to cool it until Dean told Bobby about their relationship. Sam was all sad puppy about it, as if Dean should open with 'Hi, Bobby, been a while, so apparently I'm a little bit gay, and by the way, I'm with Cas now', but Zoë just nodded quietly and stayed out of their business. Dean knew there was a reason he liked her.

"Dean makes it sounds like it was a hardship," Zoë interjected. "It's been anything but." When she looked toward Sam, he reached out and squeezed her hand. It just might make Dean vomit.

"Well, this just goes to show how bad I am at this whole civilian thing," Bobby hedged, "because I forgot completely about presents until I walked in and saw those things under your tree."

Yeah, that traditional awkwardness that the brothers had balked against so mightily. At least they weren't the only ones.

Sam chuckled. "Don't worry about it, Bobby. You can share your one measly present with us and call it even. Actually, we would have forgotten about that, too, if Zoë had let us."

Zoë threw up her hands. "I'm sorry for being so weirdly normal in this group, but someone has to do it."

Sam reached out and gave her a one-armed hug, "Ah, honey, we love it."

"Sam does, in any case," Dean quipped and took a swallow of beer.

"Actually," Sam perked up, "I was thinking Zoë and I could go pick up something for dinner from Hildegard's. Any objections?"

Bobby held up his hands. "This is your territory, I'll trust you to know what's good around here."

"Don't forget curly fries," Castiel said.

Sam smirked. "I won't." Dean was just opening his mouth to speak when Sam cut him off, "We won't forget the pie, either. Let's go, Zo."

In no time at all, Dean, Castiel, and Bobby were left alone in the house… and only _then_did it occur to Dean that that might have been the intention the entire time. Dean would have to remember to let Sam know what a dickwad he was when he got back.

"So…" Bobby started, then flagged.

"Yeah…"

Not only did former hunters suck at Christmas, they sucked at regular conversation. Dean yearned for someone to start a sentence with 'I think I've found something on whatever's been killing people in town', which was really so many levels of fucked up.

Thankfully, Bobby came up with something better to say. "Sam seems happy."

Dean moved to the table and briefly faced a dilemma of which chair to choose. If he picked the one across from Bobby, he'd be sitting with Castiel dangerously close on his left… temptation-close Dean liked to think of it. If he sat down across from Cas, he'd end up looking at him a lot. Reluctantly, Dean picked the seat across from Bobby and looked resolutely at the older hunter. "Yeah, Sam's pretty gone for that girl." Dean thought about the public displays of affection just moments ago at the kitchen table between the two. He would never admit it was the reason he almost smiled. "Can't really say I'm shocked, though. Sam's been pining for this life since he could talk." If one thought about it, it was just sad it had taken him this long and literally an act of God to finally get it.

Bobby nodded. "Well, good for him." He turned to look at Castiel. "What about you?"

Dean choked on his beer, but Castiel just calmly lifted his eyebrows. "What about me?"

"Heard you fell… means you're human now, right?"

Castiel nodded. "That's right."

"Bet that's been a bitch."

Castiel smirked. "At times, yes. I was ill several months ago. That was… unpleasant."

Fucking terrifying would have been Dean's choice of words. It had been the first time Castiel got sick. Dean had been stuck working overtime at the garage after some pimply-faced kid Tony hired just stopped showing up, leaving them suddenly short-handed. Dean would come home late and find Cas already in bed and didn't have the heart to wake him up. He'd leave early in the morning with Cas still asleep. Dean didn't really think about it much until the second day, when Sam mentioned (when Dean came home near midnight) not seeing Castiel since the day before yesterday. Dean hauled ass up the stairs and found Castiel in bed, like before. He reached to rouse the guy and found him burning with fever. Dean cursed and dragged Cas out of bed and into the bathroom, standing fully clothed with him under the shower when he turned on the water. Cas was barely conscious, even for having been pulled to his feet and manhandled across the bedroom, but the ex-angel came to abruptly and struggled with hoarse cries when the cold water hit his overheated skin. Dean restrained him, held him under the spray until he didn't feel like a living furnace, hauled him back to bed, put him in a dry shirt, forced him to take some medicine, and asked with all the force of his fear making him sound angry why he hadn't _mentioned_feeling sick. Castiel had sleepily replied that he didn't realize that's what had been wrong with him.

Of course, Dean couldn't tell Bobby _that_. It would give away too much.

"Damn, well… I know you got kicked out of the cloud club on our account, so I suppose thanks are in order. Shame you got punished because you had the balls to help us."

Dean only realized he'd been watching Castiel because he saw when the former angel looked his way. Dean immediately dropped his eyes to the beer can in his hand.

"Your condolences are appreciated, but unnecessary. Aside from a few unpleasant situations that were 'a bitch', I have enjoyed being one of you."

Dean had to fight to hold back a grin. He knew he had a hell of a lot to do with that, and fuck if he wasn't proud about it. He figured a former angel giving human existence a thumb's up said something pretty awesome about how good Dean was in the sack. After all, Castiel had known _Heaven_.

Not that Dean could tell Bobby any of that.

"Really? Well, good. More power to you," Bobby lifted his drink like he was making a toast. "How 'bout that, Dean? Angel boy likes it." When Dean glanced up, Bobby was giving him a look.

"Yeah," Dean coughed, "Cas is really getting the hang of life on planet Earth." His eyes went back to his beer, because that was the safest place to focus his gaze.

"Have things been weird?"

Dean looked up, panicked. "Weird? What do you mean?"

"You know, with Zoë."

Dean tried not to squeak. "Ummm…"

"Sam talks a good game about how she's okay with the whole hunter thing… she mean that, or is this something that'll kick Sam in the balls when he least expects it?"

Oh, _that_. "Oh yeah… she's totally cool with that."

"Zoë is an extremely accepting person," Castiel added, and Dean cut him a look. Accepting? Way to pick the biggest pro-gay word possible. Cas must have sensed Dean's gaze, because he glanced over at him, and Dean gave him a 'what the hell, man' face. Castiel frowned, perplexed, with a 'what?' tilt of his head.

Bobby snorted. "Well, nice to see that hasn't changed."

Dean and Cas looked toward Bobby. "What?" they asked in tandem.

"That… you two talking in code with looks."

Dean was up and out of his seat in a flash. "Sam and Zoë show you where you'll be sleeping?"

"Not yet… kitchen's about as far as we got soon as I came through the door."

"Well, come on, I'll show you where you can stash your shit. There's a bed set up for you in the library… so that should be just like home, full of books."

"Even some books you will find familiar," Castiel added helpfully, "Sam has been amassing his own collection of reference material." Almost like he couldn't help himself, doing it in spite of his best efforts to not be that person anymore.

"Figures," Bobby grunted.

"Hunter habits die _really_hard," Dean noted as they returned to the foyer area. Dean picked up one suitcase, Bobby grabbed the other, and the younger hunter led the way to the stairs, talking as he went like a tour guide. "Sam and Zoë sleep in the bedroom at the end of the hall, Cas is in the bedroom right of the stairs… and I crash on the living room couch." Dean ignored the tight feeling in his gut before he continued, "Bathroom's on the left, help yourself to the towels and, uh…" Dean stopped cold in his trek up the stairs. Bobby, behind him, stopped and looked at him.

"Dean?"

Dean looked down at Bobby, gripped by something almost akin to vertigo, feeling strangely adrift all of a sudden, only tenuously attached to the universe by a thread that might snap at any second. "Bobby… does this feel really, really, _really_weird? I mean… all of this."

Bobby chuckled. "Not a day goes by that I don't wish a little bit for a wendigo to hunt."

Like a twig snapping, Dean started to laugh. Bobby's hand found his back as the elder hunter joined him. It was sort of crazed laughter, and Dean could see Cas at the foot of the stairs watching them, confused, but it was good to have someone agree with him. Sam always wanted out of the hunting life, Cas had never known anything but the human experience Dean showed him, but _Bobby_… Bobby was a kindred spirit.

Dean wiped tears out of his eyes, "Oh, shit, Bobby… what the hell, man."

"I know, kid… but you know, it gets a little easier every day. Hell, maybe before we die, we'll actually be used to it."

Dean glanced once at Castiel still standing at the bottom of the stairs, watching them. Some of it he was already used to. Knew he'd fight kicking and screaming if someone tried to take it from him. Bobby was busy wiping at his eyes. Dean risked sending a tiny, private smile Castiel's way. Castiel's face brightened just a little.

"Geez, Bobby," Dean grunted as he resumed his trudge up the stairs, "what did you pack? Rocks?"

"Yep. I'm not good at this, Dean… didn't know what else to pack." Bobby made his voice sound lost.

Dean was laughing again as he led Bobby into the spare room.

* * *

><p>After only a day of making sure he didn't indulge in any casual contact with Cas that might give them away, Dean began to realize just how much they'd been doing it of late. Without even thinking or realizing it. Downright involuntary.<p>

Castiel had a thing with wanting to touch base with Dean… it made sense. He used to be in constant, unending contact with his brothers and sisters via angel radio. He was wired to be in touch, and since he couldn't be connected to Dean's mind as a replacement, he'd be attached to his skin. Dean made that concession for Cas, not even realizing how genuinely it had become part of _them_until it was off-limits. Dean missed the skate of fingers along the back of his neck at the kitchen table, the brush of a hand against the small of his back in the hallway, the ghost of his body heat when they stood too close while they discussed mundane shit like the grocery list.

What surprised Dean, though, was that he couldn't count how many times he had to tell himself not to reach out and trace the back of Castiel's hand, or card his fingers through the curl of hair at the nape of his neck, or give him a bump with a hip that said 'just checking that you're still there' and Castiel's answering shoulder-nudge that said 'I'm always here'. He was really shocked that he, tough-as-nails Dean Winchester, had gotten so _touchy_.

But deprivation only drove home the point that he, in fact, _had_.

By Thursday night, Dean felt like he was going through withdrawal. He couldn't look at Cas without wanting the texture of his skin and the warmth of his body heat. It was truly pathetic.

And what was worse, Sam picked up on it without Dean saying one damn word.

"Dude… don't do that."

The brothers were in the kitchen gathering up popcorn and drinks while Bobby, Zoë, and Castiel were waiting in the living room to start a movie. Tonight's film: It's a Wonderful Life… Bobby's choice. Who knew? Dean had to remind himself all the time that Bobby wasn't born to hunting like Sam and Dean were; there was a time when Bobby had been a real civilian.

"Don't do what?" Dean snarled back at his brother. He hadn't been in a very good mood lately. He knew he was being cranky, but it wasn't exactly something he could just _decide_to stop doing. Sam's 'you're about to hear a lecture' tone didn't help matters.

"Don't start over-thinking your and Cas's touching thing."

Dean eyes jerked up to Sam, narrowed and suspicious. He was seconds away from asking Sam how the fuck he'd known.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Come on, man… I can see that you want to just go touch him. Not even ravish him, though I'm sure you do, but just _touch_." To make his point, Sam reached over and closed his hand over Dean's forearm. And yes, it was that, that exactly. That kind of touch. Dean glowered and pulled his arm away from Sam. It was weird with anyone but Cas. Sam was his brother and it shouldn't be, but it still felt off-center somehow. Long ago defined as something not to do. Not fit for two manly hunters like the Winchesters.

So yeah, Sam was right and he knew it. Somehow, that made things worse.

"Way to be a fucking pansy, Winchester," Dean grumbled to himself.

"Jesus, Dean… stop. Look, I figured it out months ago."

"What's that, Einstein?"

Sam turned to face Dean squarely. "That's who you are, who you've always been, but no one's ever let you be like that. Dad wasn't exactly the touchy-feely kind of guy, and I guess I've never been either, but that's you."

Indignation was making Dean clench his jaw. "You calling me touchy-feely, bitch?"

"God, you're incorrigible. I'm not talking about in touch with your feelings, because god knows that is _not_ you. I mean _tactile_." Sam gave his older brother a compassionate look that normally ended in ridicule for being an oversized girl. "Look, you finally meet someone who has no preconceived notions about what touching should and shouldn't be. I think that's great. And you know what?" Sam stepped closer and lowered his voice, "Cas likes it, too. So don't do what you usually do."

"Yeah, and what's that?"

"Get all macho and not give yourself what you want. Because Castiel hasn't done anything wrong, so don't punish him because you're having some kind of crisis."

Dean glowered darkly.

"You know," Sam began testily, "you _could_just go touch him if you'd tell Bobby…"

"I'm working on it, so back off, princess," Dean snapped.

Sam sighed, long-suffering like he had the most taxing brother on the face of the planet. Dean snatched up the popcorn bowl, two drinks, and stormed off to the living room…

… where Castiel was sitting on the couch, the one they typically shared on movie nights, and Dean knew he'd have to find somewhere else to sit or he'd not be paying attention and do something to give them away.

Dean sighed. He was really starting to hate Christmas.

To Be Continued…


	7. Chapter 7

For someone who used to sleep in a strange bed every other night, Dean never thought he'd get to where he missed 'his' bed so much. The couch left a fucking lot to be desired. The foremost of which was the warm, willing body beside him.

Castiel had turned in first, bidding them all farewell after the movie and heading toward the stairs. He looked tired, and he was quiet even for him, and Dean had to fight every instinct in him not to jump up and check Castiel for fever. Was he turning in early because he wasn't feeling well? They couldn't count on Castiel to tell them (though he had sworn to be more forthcoming about feeling strange after Dean read him the riot act last time).

Instead, all Dean did was wave him a nonchalant goodnight and stayed behind, listening to Sam, Zoë, and Bobby recount what memories they had to share of previous Christmases. Needless to say, Zoë did most of the talking.

Eventually, everyone else went up to bed, and Dean turned off the living room light and lay down on the couch. It wasn't long enough, so he had to fold his legs to fit. And it was lumpy in weird places he never noticed when he was just sitting on it. The cushion he was using for a pillow wasn't comfortable no matter how many times Dean pounded at it with his fist. And the blanket he tucked around himself wasn't very warm at all. Not after he'd grown used to Cas, who gravitated toward Dean in the night to snuggle against his body heat.

Basically, it sucked in surround sound.

And Sam was right… all Dean had to do to put things back to rights was nut up and _tell_Bobby. But the mere thought was enough to make Dean take to the couch with a silent scowl.

Honestly, he'd meant for Bobby to know before now, but everything had been so fucking _normal_. He didn't want to ruin that, because what if once he told Bobby everything went to hell? Sam deserved a nice, normal Christmas for once. What right did he have to shove some big gay freak-out right in the middle with Bobby raging and storming out in disgust? Because Dean really had no idea how Bobby would take the news. As far as he knew, Bobby had never had any gay friends, and that had to say something not good about Dean's prospects, didn't it?

It was terrible, but Dean was starting to resent Bobby ever coming. Things had been so good before, and now he was sleeping on the fucking couch like a misbehaving husband.

Dean resolved, for the hundredth time, to tell Bobby. Soon. Tomorrow, maybe. Then he threw himself into sleeping like it was a prize fight.

He had barely started to drift off when the night was filled with screaming. Dean bolted from the couch and was racing up the stairs before he'd even registered a name amid the yelling that shattered the night. "_Deeeean_!"

Dean had farther to go than everyone else… he was the last one at the master bedroom door. The house was filled with people with hunters' instincts; they went from sleeping to fighting in five seconds flat. At the threshold to the bedroom, Sam was holding Bobby back, the older hunter clearly trying to get inside the room where the screaming was coming from. Zoë was standing back, looking tiny and scared. She didn't like screaming. Tortured screaming especially.

Dean hurried toward the group, ignoring Bobby's entreaties for an explanation while Sam kept Bobby at bay. "Stay here, Bobby, you can't go in… Cas'll attack anyone but Dean."

The hunter squawked, and a hand landed on Dean's shoulder as if to haul him back, but Dean shrugged it off and rushed into the bedroom.

Castiel was sitting up in bed, bathed in moonlight from the open curtains. The pale light colored Cas in silvered shades of gray and white. He was panting, eyes wide and unfocused. He'd stopped yelling, but his body was shaking, his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat.

Dean all but dove for the bed, reaching for Castiel in an instant. "Cas! Hey, Cas… it's me. It's Dean."

In a split second, Castiel reached out and grabbed him in a desperate hold. Dean knew it was coming. He met the pull with pull. He drew Cas to him and sat holding the ex-angel to his chest while Castiel clung to him, his grip hard enough to hurt. Fingers dug into his back, sure to leave bruises, but Dean didn't say anything. He held Castiel tight, their bodies a knot tied by limbs.

"Dean… you were…" Castiel croaked.

"Not in Hell… I'm right here, man. It's okay… we're all right…"

Dean faintly heard Sam herding Bobby back to the guest room, amid pissy complaints and grumpy grousing. He'd get _something_out of Sam; Bobby wouldn't give up without some kind of explanation. Sam would tell him the minimum that he had to in order to keep Bobby from seeking the truth from the horse's mouth. Question was, what would constitute 'minimum' to placate Bobby Singer?

Dean tried not to think about that as he rubbed his hand up and down Castiel's back, grimacing at the fact that the shirt that was damp with sweat. He couldn't do anything about that right now. Castiel's nightmares were more flashback than dream, and it could take a while for him to come back to reality. Dean got that more than he cared to… that first year after the pit, he'd had flashback nightmares of his own. Every so often, they still plagued his sleep. His go-to had been booze, for all the good that had done. He'd be damned if Castiel ever saw reason to turn to liquor. Once, in another life, he'd seen a Castiel who'd relied on drinking and drugs to handle being human, and Dean would not let that happen to his Cas.

So Dean sat in the dark with the ex-angel, getting the stuffing hugged out of him without complaint.

Slowly, Castiel's breathing returned to normal.

"You back?" Dean asked gently.

Castiel loosened his hold and pulled away reluctantly. "Yes… I… I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Dean knew the nightmares were on his account, be they of his rescue from Hell or Castiel's torture at the hands of his own brethren for rebelling. All of it, at the core, was Dean's fault. He studied Castiel closely (the closest he'd been to him all day). He noted the haggard look about him and frowned. "You didn't sleep for shit last night, did you?"

Castiel shied. "You couldn't be here. It's fine. I understand."

And that right there, that made Dean feel like the biggest asshole in the continental United States. Shit, he knew Castiel didn't sleep well without him nearby, but Dean was worried about what Bobby would think, so Castiel was left to nightmare-riddled sleep. Dean was worried about upsetting Bobby, so Castiel woke screaming in a cold sweat.

"You know what, fuck this," Dean snarled and rolled out of bed. Castiel followed him silently with his eyes as Dean went to the dresser and fished out a clean shirt. "Here… that shirt's soaked through."

Castiel quietly peeled out of his wet shirt and put on the fresh one Dean tossed him. The damp shirt was thrown to the floor, then Castiel shuffled down to lie back down again. "I apologize for waking everyone… goodnight."

"Night, Cas," Dean returned. Then he went back to the bed and crawled under the covers, invading Castiel's personal space in a heartbeat.

Castiel craned to look over his shoulder at him. "Dean? What…?"

Dean spooned up behind Castiel, one arm drawing Castiel's body tight against him, and Dean chided, "Shut up, Cas… get some sleep."

There was a pregnant pause. "What about Bobby?"

"Don't worry about Bobby. Just go to sleep." He ended the conversation with a soft kiss to the back of Castiel's neck. His skin tasted sweat-salty… Dean just wished it had been sweat from sex instead of violent nightmares.

It was like Castiel just melted. He sighed, tension bleeding out of his body, and he pressed back against Dean. It wasn't long before he was fast asleep.

The rhythm of his breathing put Dean to sleep not long after.

* * *

><p>Dean had the Friday before the Christmas weekend off, but he still woke up early. The first things that registered were the smell of Castiel's hair (since his nose was practically buried in it) and the warm solidity of the other man's body along the length of his own. Dean inhaled long and deep, letting a tiny smile through as he just basked in being back. Castiel was everywhere, and it was awesome.<p>

Castiel was sound asleep, a heavy, wonderful weight in his arms. It was the complete opposite of how Dean had found him last night when he came rushing into the room in the wake of screams.

He couldn't do that to Cas another night. He had to tell Bobby, and he had to tell him today. The very thought set Dean's heart to racing and his palms to sweating, but this wasn't about sparing Dean discomfort. This was about taking care of Cas, and when thrust into the role of caretaker, Dean rose to the challenge like the world depended on it.

There were times when it had.

Before his resolve weakened, before he had too much time to _think_, Dean carefully untangled himself from Castiel, slipped out of bed, and headed downstairs.

He wasn't surprised to find Bobby in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee. Like he was just waiting for Dean. He looked up when Dean shuffled in and gave the younger man a nod to serve as a 'good morning'.

"How's Castiel?"

Trust Bobby to get right to the point.

"Fine… Sam tell you what that was all about?" Dean went to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup. He avoided looking at Bobby… he almost convinced himself it made this easier.

"A bit… said he has nightmares."

Dean snorted. "'Nightmares' is kind of putting it mildly." Dean took in slow breath. "They're not usually that bad, though. We know how to manage them, I mean." Dean's heart was starting to hammer. He didn't know what he would do if this was the moment that his relationship with Bobby ended. Could years of being family just end? Dean just had no clue… he might be about to make a choice between Bobby and Castiel.

And he was going to choose Castiel, come what may. Even if that meant losing Bobby as a part of his life. It was the only choice, so there was no doubt, but it was still filling Dean with dread.

"That so?" Bobby returned evenly.

Dean turned to face Bobby, but found he could barely look at him. He'd like to sit down, but joining Bobby at the table would put them much too close. Dean needed distance. Room to get away.

"He doesn't have bad ones like that when I sleep with him." Dean inhaled. "Which I do." Dean gulped. "Every night."

Bobby raised an eyebrow. "Pretty self-sacrificing of you."

The silence was thick enough to slice with a knife. It could be left at that and maybe still seem not-quite-gay. Kind of unusual and hopelessly entangled, but when hadn't that defined Winchester? Dean could skirt this one again, if he played his cards right. He could still be totally straight in Bobby's eyes.

Or he could finally spit it out, let Bobby know in no uncertain terms what was going on.

"We don't just sleep, you know," Dean blurted gracelessly.

You could have heard a pin drop in the kitchen.

The sound of Bobby's chair scraping across the floor as he stood made Dean jump. He clutched his coffee cup tightly as Bobby walked across the room, heading right for Dean. He kept his eyes locked on his white knuckles even when Bobby stopped barely a foot from Dean. He couldn't take seeing revulsion or rejection in Bobby's eyes… so he wouldn't look.

He jerked when he felt Bobby's hand land heavy on his shoulder.

"Dean…"

Dean hazarded a glance up into Bobby's eyes. The old hunter scrutinized him at length, peering hard at him, then he leaned in slightly. "If that's true, then why the _hell_have you been sleeping on the couch?"

"Uh, well, um… I…" Dean stammered.

Bobby took Dean's cup from him, set it on the counter, then clasped both sides of Dean's neck with his meaty hands. It felt slightly entrapping, but Dean remained still and waited, not even daring to breathe as he watched Bobby warily.

"Son… who you love don't change me loving you."

Dean would forever deny the undignified croak that came out of his mouth. "You… you mean that, Bobby?"

Bobby ventured a smile. "I'm kind of offended you have to ask." The hands on Dean's neck squeezed softly. That, more than anything, told Dean that Bobby meant it… that things were going to be okay. Because Bobby could lie with the best of them, like any hunter, but the touch was his tell. It was that fatherly, affectionate gesture reserved for the two men who'd become surrogate sons to him. It held no room for disgust or disownment.

Bobby gave Dean the hairy eye. "You're an idjit, you know that?"

Dean let out a nervous chuckle. "Yeah… Sam keeps reminding me." Dean searched Bobby's eyes. "So... you're okay with this?"

"Of course I am, boy."

Dean wasn't really sure who started it, but in the next instant they were balled up in a hug. Dean let out a huge, shuddering breath into Bobby's shoulder. Days of worry just vanished. "Thank you, Bobby."

Bobby gave him a solid pound on the back, because Dean might be dating another man, but he was still one himself. "Now, you think you can actually start _enjoying_this holiday?"

Dean laughed. "Yeah… I think I can do that."

"Good," Bobby pulled out of the hug, "because I was getting sick of broody Dean. He's a real pain in the ass."

When Bobby went back to the table, Dean didn't hesitate to reclaim his cup and join him. Once seated, he heaved out a huge sigh, so fucking grateful it was out there, Bobby knew, and Bobby was still _there_.

"Seriously, Dean," Bobby said lowly, "you actually thought I'd… what… disown you for being with Cas?"

Dean offered a sheepish shrug. "I really didn't know. I had no clue how you'd react. We never had that hypothetical conversation before. I mean, there was never a reason for it. Because I'm not _gay_, I just… I don't know. Cas is different… the exception."

"Hmmm…" Bobby nodded absently, taking a sip of coffee before he said, "A wise woman once told me she figured everyone, deep-down, was at least two percent gay. Just most never meet a person who falls into that two percent."

Dean had never heard that theory before, but it rang so very true for him. Because Dean didn't suddenly start noticing hot guys and feel an urgent need to catch up on all the seasons of Queer as Folk. He still appreciated a sexy woman walking by on the street… he just happened to be totally turned on by one former angel with permanent sex hair and no sense of personal space.

"Who was the woman that said that?" Dean asked.

"My wife."

Dean's eyes widened. Bobby smiled thinly, a smile that looked just as much broken as nostalgic, then he caught the stunned look on Dean's face. That turned his bittersweet smile to one of amusement. "Don't look so shocked." Bobby cocked his head as he regarded Dean. "He make you happy?"

The point-blank question made Dean sit back a little. Dean didn't usually respond well to blunt questions about his feelings. But Bobby deserved an honest answer. "Yeah."

"Good… that's all I really want for you. And for Sam." Bobby cast a warm look Dean's way. "I'm proud of you, boy."

It was Dean's turn to tilt his head in silent question.

"Let's just say I sort of figured you and the angel had a thing," Bobby answered slyly.

"You've got to be kidding… when did you guess?" Dean tried to remember if he'd let himself slip up at any point since Bobby got to the house. Did he touch without thinking, stare without knowing? What tipped Bobby off?

"When you got the bright idea to say yes to Michael."

"That was years ago!" Dean squawked indignantly. "And we weren't even together then!"

"Well, you didn't know you were, I'll grant you that. Watching that angel of yours told a different story. Never saw him look so scary as when he thought you were giving up. Never really saw the whole 'badass warrior of God' thing until he thought he was losing you."

Dean remembered the pounding he took in a dark alley for that.

"I knew you two had something then," Bobby continued, "but I never imagined you'd pull your head out of your ass and go for it. That's what I mean when I say I'm proud of you."

Dean shook his head. He couldn't believe he'd been stressing out so much about how Bobby would react to the news. Seemed the old hunter was on board that train even before Dean was.

Seemed even a seasoned supernatural hunter like Dean Winchester could still be surprised now and again.

To Be Continued…


	8. Chapter 8

Sam came downstairs not long after Dean did. He came into the kitchen warily, giving Dean and Bobby a careful look as they sat together at the kitchen table. He had an 'I don't know if I'm walking into a war zone or not' look on his face, and oddly enough Dean was used to being the one wearing that face. He couldn't count how many times he'd walked into a room where Sam and John were sharing the same space making that same face.

No need to make Sam walk on eggshells. "It's cool, Sammy… I told Bobby."

All the tense lines in Sam's body melted in a second. He sagged with a sigh. "Finally… and he didn't freak out, did he?" Sam's eyes cut to Bobby, locked there, and Dean sat up in surprise. It was posed as a question, but the tone to it wasn't so much 'I knew Bobby wouldn't freak out' as 'he better not have freaked out'. There was a hint of _warning_in his voice, like Bobby had damn well better not shun Dean for Cas or there'd be hell to pay. Dean hadn't expected to see protective Sam rear his head… not against Bobby, of all people. It hit Dean somewhere deep and basic.

Bobby harrumphed. "Takes your idjit brother thirty-odd years to settle down with someone… you think I'm going to quibble and bitch about their _gender_?"

That answer made Sam break into a huge grin because the world was all puppies and rainbows. Dean rolled his eyes. When Sam's eyes met Dean's, Dean gave him a look that promised great pain if he got mushy on him. For once, Sam relented. He seemed to be in just too damn good a mood to let Dean shoot it full of holes with his machismo.

Instead, the younger Winchester headed toward the stove. "Zo just jumped in the shower, but she woke up starving." Sam's lips quirked wolfishly, and Dean had a real good idea why Zoë would be famished. Dean had given his fair share of women a rigorous cardio workout in the middle of the night to know. "I'm going to make a big breakfast, if Cas wants to join us."

"Sure, I'll go get him," Dean stood to go wake Cas.

Of course, Sam couldn't leave it at that, little brother that he was. "If you guys can make it down in time for breakfast, that is," Sam called out with a suggestive eyebrow waggle. Dean flipped Sam the bird as he left the kitchen and headed for the stairs.

When Dean reached the master bedroom, he eased open the door and slipped inside. Cas was still in bed, a lump in the blankets with a disarray of black hair peeking out the top. Dean smirked to himself and moved toward the bed. If it were Sam, he would have flown at the bed and leapt on the mattress, the ultimate hope being Sam would startle so hard he'd fall out of bed. The one time Dean tried that with Cas, the former angel woke with a yelp and panic in his eyes. When Dean calmed him down, all Cas would say about the rude awakening was that the jolt reminded him of falling.

So instead of being a jackass, Dean stepped around to Castiel's side of the bed and sat on the edge. From there, he could see Castiel's face, eyes softly shut and mouth relaxed. Dean had intended to reach out and shake Cas awake right away, but he found himself just sitting there a moment, hands in his lap, watching and thinking. The confrontation with Bobby had been anticlimactic, to say the least, and now Dean felt really stupid for everything he put Castiel through out of fear of how Bobby would react to finding out about them. Sometimes, Dean was convinced the only reason Cas put up with him was because, as a new human, he didn't know any different. It was probably Dean's saving grace that Castiel had never been in a relationship before this… nothing even remotely normal to compare it to.

Castiel stirred, opened his eyes, and looked up at Dean. He blinked. "Hello, Dean."

"Heya, Cas."

Castiel snaked a hand out of the cocoon of covers to rub at his eye. "Is this some manner of retribution?"

"Huh?"

"You watching me sleep. You're right… it is 'stalkery'."

Dean snorted. "Funny… no, I was just thinking." Dean took a breath. "I told Bobby."

Cas dropped his hand across his chest and looked intently at Dean. "I see… and was he upset about our union?"

Dean screwed his face at the word 'union' but shrugged it off. "He's fine with it."

Castiel nodded slowly.

"Actually, he was really cool about it," Dean marveled. "So I guess I should apologize for you having to deal with your nightmares because I was freaking out for nothing." Dean frowned. "You know, you'd think that when God was 'rewarding' you by turning you human, the least he could have done was take away your memories from Hell." Dean couldn't help the bitterness that crept into his tone. He hated that Castiel had nightmares like he did.

"I asked Him not to."

"Dude, _why_? It's _Hell_."

Cas sat up in bed. "It was our first meeting. I would not give that up just to sleep better at night."

Dean gaped.

"Although," Castiel frowned, "I admit, at the time, I didn't realize how precious a good night's sleep is."

Dean chuckled. "You're an idiot, Cas."

Castiel glowered at him. When combined with the wild and crazy things his hair was doing, the 'I know what it feels like to smite shit' effect was lost. Instead, he just looked all kinds of adorable.

"And apparently I'm an idiot, too," Dean conceded. Then he waited for Castiel to say something. He didn't. Dean pursed his lips. "Feel free to jump in any time with 'you're not an idiot, Dean, don't be silly'."

Castiel cocked his head. "You're not an idiot, Dean, don't be silly." They were the right words, but said with so much sarcasm that Dean barked out a laugh. Castiel answered with one corner of his mouth ticking up.

"Can I presume, now that Bobby is aware of our union –"

"Okay, we have to find a new word for you to use."

" – that we don't have to pretend we aren't anymore?"

"Yeah… no more pretending."

In the next instant, Castiel was leaning forward, pulling Dean toward him with a hand on the back of his neck. Their lips met somewhere in the middle. Dean melted into it, because it was what he'd been wanting to do since Bobby showed up. Castiel drew Dean closer, parting his lips with his tongue, and started to lie down. He dragged Dean down with him. Dean's weight came to rest atop Cas, a fluffy layer of comforter a soft buffer zone between their bodies. Dean wanted nothing more than to dig underneath those layers and find the body he'd come to need so much.

Instead, Dean grunted and pulled his face away from Castiel's. "Much as I'd love a morning roll in the hay, Sam's making everyone breakfast. You know how good the food is when Sam's going all-out to impress his girlfriend." Dean licked his lips theatrically as he imagined the feast to come.

Castiel's hands were slowly trailing down Dean's sides (as if Dean wouldn't notice if Cas just did it slowly). "I would rather have you."

The rough gravel of Castiel's voice raced down Dean's spine to the cradle of his pelvis. He sat up before he lost all control over the matter. "Sam already expects us not to show, and I'll be damned if I give him a reason to gloat."

Castiel sighed, annoyed. "So my sexual satisfaction is dependent on your brother?"

"Wow… that came out all wrong," Dean yanked back the covers. "Come on… get your ass out of bed."

"Get your ass _in_bed," Castiel returned, pouting.

"Quit being so bitchy," Dean said playfully. "You get dressed and downstairs for breakfast, I'll make it up to you tonight." In case Castiel had any problems deciphering his meaning, Dean winked.

Castiel froze, tilted his head pensively, and narrowed his eyes at Dean. He let his eyes rake hungrily up and down Dean's frame, and Dean felt it like a touch ghosting over his skin. It was almost enough to make him abandon his own damn deal and jump Castiel then and there.

Which was probably Castiel's intent. He knew how to manipulate Dean with looks so thoroughly it was scary.

Finally, Castiel gave a curt nod and swung his legs out of bed. "Very well, we'll go down for breakfast. Tonight, you're mine."

'Not just tonight,' Dean thought, but that was way too girly to actually say out loud. So he just gave Cas a suggestive look. "I'm all yours, big boy," Dean agreed.

Like a reflex, Castiel smiled. He was still smiling as he crossed the room to the bathroom. Dean started to get up to go wait downstairs with the others… but then he stopped. He settled back on the bed and just sat there. Lame as it sounded, he liked just being in the same room while Castiel went about mundane, human shit. For him, those were the fantastical moments. To a guy who used to flit from one end of the world to the other on the impetus of a thought, sliding into a pair of blue jeans was nothing short of remarkable.

And Dean didn't mind the peep show one bit.

* * *

><p>Dean was having a dream about his mother. It was Christmastime, the world was full of silver and gold, and everywhere Dean looked he saw Mary. She was in the living room of their old home in Lawrence, hanging tinsel on the tree. She was in the kitchen, offering Dean a slice of homemade pecan pie. She was smiling from the porch at her sons throwing snowballs at each other. She was welcoming Castiel with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. She was singing Christmas carols… the one time of year when holiday tunes ousted the Beatles.<p>

They all played like memories, though few of them were. In his dreamscape, it didn't matter. Whenever Dean dreamed about Mary Winchester, especially the happy dreams, Dean fought waking up with everything in him. He wanted to stay where she was, where the world hadn't turned so hostile and callous toward two little boys.

He wanted to stay where Mary and Castiel were joining their voices in a melodic rendition of White Christmas.

Of course, he couldn't stay. Mary drifted away as consciousness crowded in, and Dean woke with a homesick sigh.

The first thing he saw eased a lot of the ache lodged in his chest. Castiel was already up, standing at the bedroom window. He was dressed, decked in jeans and a dark green sweater. Something was niggling at the back of Dean's head from the second he woke, trying to tell him why he'd woken, but he didn't really register what it was until that moment. Castiel was singing. Not loudly, almost as if filling the silence for his own benefit, and not in English. Dean recognized enough words to identify the language as Latin. And it was beautiful. Dean lay there a moment, listening.

"I didn't know you could sing," Dean said softly (as if he had to match the low pitch of Castiel's own voice).

Castiel stopped and turned to face Dean. "Dean… I didn't mean to wake you."

"No, it's… you never told me you could sing."

"All angels can," he said matter-of-factly. Castiel shrugged, a patently human gesture he'd adopted since the fall. "Apparently that is one ability I got to keep."

Dean sat up in bed, scooting back to prop himself against the headboard. "Really? All angels?" He was trying to picture Uriel or Gabriel having a voice as lovely as Castiel's. Honestly, that Cas had such a honeyed singing voice was startling, because his speaking voice sounded more 'phone sex operator' than 'Vienna Boys' Choir'.

"That is one of very few things that your Christmas carols got right." When Dean looked at him, puzzled, Castiel offered a wry smile, "Hark, the herald angels sing."

"Oh… how come you've never sung before?"

Castiel meandered back toward the bed, eyes not meeting Dean like he was embarrassed or bashful about the reason. "Angels are very rarely permitted to rejoice… we're allowed celebration of God and all his glory, but 'holidays' as you know them aren't for our kind. The birth of the savior was one instance when the angels were given freedom to fill the Heavens with joyous song." Castiel sat on the side of the bed next to Dean. "Of course, this isn't _technically_the birthday of Jesus Christ, but –"

"Ah!" Dean held up a hand. "Don't… you're starting to sound like Sam." He dropped his hand and regarded Castiel. "You know, you're not an angel anymore. You can sing whenever you damn well feel like it." It had been months since Castiel went human, and Dean hated that this was the first time he'd let himself sing when it was obviously something he liked.

"I know… but after millennia being told not to… I suppose I just need to get used to the idea."

"I sure as hell wouldn't mind hearing you sing more often. You're really good."

"I know." When Dean snorted, Castiel nearly rolled his eyes. "I was _made_to be… you wouldn't have accused me of boasting when I stated that I had wings."

"Hmm… I don't know. Sometimes it did kind of sound like you were proud of them. You bragged about them, admit it."

Castiel gave him an askance look. "Is this like your testosterone-driven pride in your penis?"

Dean laughed. "Hey! You like my penis."

"I do."

For a second, Dean could only chuckle. The awkward conversationalist that was Castiel never ceased to amuse Dean. "You know… this isn't usually the first thing people talk about on Christmas morning."

"I suspected it wasn't… so how does one correctly begin this day?"

"Well, I'm not much of an expert, but starting with Merry Christmas is probably a good guess."

"Very well… Merry Christmas, Dean."

"Merry Christmas, Cas." Then Dean leaned over and planted a quick kiss on Castiel's mouth. It was fleeting and chaste, but Dean wasn't so quick that Castiel didn't have time to dart out his tongue to taste Dean's lips. The brush of Castiel's soft tongue shot to the pit of Dean's stomach, and he knew there was heat in his eyes when he leaned back and regarded Castiel.

Castiel licked his lips. "Is that part of the traditional greeting?"

"Nope… that's just for you. So don't try to lay one on Bobby when we go downstairs." Although seeing the hunter assaulted with a holiday smooch from the former angel might be a good show.

"So what were you just singing?" Dean asked as he raked his fingers through his hair in a half-ass combing.

"I suppose you'd call it a seasonal hymn… angel Christmas songs don't involve snowmen and sleigh rides."

"No, I guess they wouldn't." Dean reached out and gave Castiel's knee a jostle. "You know, I'm not a bad singer myself."

Castiel's eyebrows rose.

"I mean, I fake being bad in the car just to annoy Sam, but when I want to, I'm not half bad."

"I see… is that your way of suggesting we should make beautiful music together?"

Dean's mouth dropped open, speechless.

Castiel's deadpan expression cracked, giving way to a smile and a wicked gleam in his eye.

"You dick," Dean said with a smirk.

"If it's not your genitalia that preoccupies you, it's mine," Castiel sighed in mock-defeat.

Dean rolled out of bed to get dressed. "I don't remember you bitching about it last night."

Castiel made a humming noise that was borderline pornographic. "If I had, you might have stopped what you were doing. I could not allow that." The gravitas with which Cas said that made Dean laugh as he padded into the bathroom. When he came out and went to the dresser to pull out some clothes, Castiel was standing by the window again, eyes turned skyward. Dean wondered if Castiel missed flying. It was easy to look at the awkward human and forget that he was once a powerful angel of the Lord. No matter how much Castiel claimed to enjoy his new humanity, it had to feel like being crippled and thrown to the wolves when he lost his grace.

As if he could sense Dean's thoughts had taken a dark turn, Castiel turned his head to look at Dean. He smiled.

"What's up, Cas?"

"I would like to sing with you sometime." Gone was the teasing that had filled their earlier conversation on the matter.

It was a simple thing, but it carried a lot for so few words. Castiel choosing to use a gift from God – given so that the angels might celebrate on the rare occasions that God saw fit – whenever he wanted, to celebrate what made _him_feel joyful… that was choice and freedom at its best.

To Be Continued…


	9. Chapter 9

It was, without question, the most normal Christmas morning either Winchester could remember. There was a twinkling tree, presents tucked underneath, the smell of gingerbread cookies filling the air, and gathered in the living room an actual family. Dean, Sam, Castiel, Zoë, and Bobby. It was so surreal that Dean found himself glancing more than once at the Devil's traps under the windows, fully expecting something evil to bust in and ruin it all.

But nothing did, and Zoë jumped up off the couch and dove for a present (almost in a hurry to be the one to play Santa before anyone else claimed the job). She came up with Dean's gift for Cas. "Here! Let's start with this one."

Dean and Castiel were sitting on the floor at the coffee table, sharing a cup of coffee and nibbling on fresh-baked gingerbread men. When Zoë held out the wrapped gift to Castiel, Dean put his cookie down and cleared his throat. Bobby, from his place in the recliner, watched with a glint of amusement in his eyes over the whole thing… as if Christmas was a big school play his surrogate sons were in.

Castiel accepted the gift from Zoë. "Thank you." He looked toward Dean questioningly.

"Open it," Dean urged, for the first time nervous that Cas would think it was stupid.

Castiel set to unwrapping the gift with more care than Dean had taken wrapping it. When he'd finally peeled away the paper, he froze and looked down at the gift in his lap.

"Show us what you got, Castiel," Sam urged.

Castiel did. He held up a tan trench coat… eerily like the one he'd always worn as an angel.

Sam's eyes widened.

Bobby guffawed.

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. "It's stupid, right? It's been months since you had Jimmy's, but when I picture you in my head, you're always wearing one. I saw that in a second-hand store a while back and…" Dean stopped talking, fidgeting.

Castiel let the tan material pool in his lap. "It is not stupid… thank you, Dean."

"Am I missing something?" Zoë asked.

"Back when Castiel was an angel," Sam explained, "he always wore the same thing… suit, tie, and trench coat. Hell, even I've kind of missed seeing that old coat."

"I have often wished I could have kept the coat I wore," Castiel confessed.

"Yeah," Dean chuckled, "then you wouldn't have had to show up in the rain naked."

"What?" Zoë asked.

"Long story, I'll tell you later," Sam promised.

The next present Zoë picked was the envelope to her and Sam from Dean and Castiel. She handed it to Sam to open, "Here, Sam… this one's for us from Dean and Cas." When Bobby realized one couple had given the other couple a gift, a damnably normal and domestic thing to do, he gave the boys a knowing look.

Sam opened the envelope, pulled out the card inside, and his eyes brightened. "Oh, wow."

"What is it?" Bobby asked.

"It's an adoption voucher from the local animal shelter," Dean explained. "Fees and everything are paid, all you have to do is go out there and pick out a dog." Dean paused and grimaced. "Or a cat, I guess, but if you're a cat person, Zoë, I don't think I can make peace with that."

"A dog?" Zoë asked, moving to look at the card.

"I know Sam's idea of Heaven has dogs," Dean said cryptically. Sam glanced over at him briefly, they shared a look, and then he was smiling. "What do you think, Zo?"

"What's wrong with cats?" Castiel asked lowly, leaning toward Dean in the process.

"Dude, don't tell me _you're_a cat person… I totally couldn't deal with that," Dean countered.

"This is really thoughtful of you guys," Zoë finally responded. "I love dogs. After my parents died, I actually wanted to get one, for protection amongst other things, but with school and work, I just didn't have the time for one. But I'll be graduating next semester, and with Sam here…"

"So we can get a dog?" Sam asked eagerly.

Zoë gave him a playful shove. "Yes, we can get a dog."

Sam beamed. "This is awesome! Thanks, guys!"

"My brother, the world's biggest eight-year-old girl. You watch, he'll pick out something small with curly hair."

He took it as a good sign when both Sam and Zoë made a face at that. There might still be hope it'd be a big, manly dog joining the family. Maybe a mastiff or something.

While Sam was fondling the adoption voucher with moist eyes (okay, maybe not, but that was the story Dean would always tell), Zoë went back to the tree and offered up a present to Dean and Cas. "Here… this is from us to the both of you."

Dean accepted the gift, slid aside the plate of cookies to set it on the table, and tore into the gift. Castiel leaned in close for a better view. When the box lay open, Dean pulled out a photo album.

"Oh, that's…" he started to say, kind of stumped, when Castiel reached out and opened the hard cover. Dean's eyes widened. "Oh, wow." Inside were family pictures. The few the Winchesters had, those the brothers had carried around their whole lives, ones recovered from John Winchester's possessions, and the pictures from the box found by the woman living in their childhood Kansas home. Dean sat and slowly flipped through the pages. There weren't many, which made the few they had all the more precious. Most families had volumes and volumes of photo albums… this was the only one Dean had held since he was four that had pictures of his own family. As far as he was concerned, that made it a fucking national treasure.

When they turned the last page with the pictures Dean recognized, he froze when he discovered still more pictures. Recent pictures. Ones with Dean and Castiel in the backyard, Sam and Zoë being all clingy and goofy, the Impala gleaming in the driveway… moments stolen during this new life where they were no longer hunters.

There was many blank pages left for more pictures to be added.

Dean finally looked up at Sam and Zoë. "This is…"

Castiel traced a finger over a picture of himself and Dean standing outside, Dean at the driver's side of the Impala with Castiel at the passenger's side, both of them leaning into the car and resting their chins on arms crossed over the roof of the car, looking across at one another. Dean vaguely recalled trying to talk Castiel into a weekend drive, just for fun, and they'd reached a stalemate just shy of climbing in the car to go.

"Dean's trying to say this is a lovely present and we are very grateful," Castiel said on their behalf.

"That's not what I was trying to say," Dean protested, because that was way too mushy for his taste. Bobby harrumphed and took a sip of his eggnog. Dean turned back to Sam and Zoë, "But, you know…" he shrugged and ticked his head toward Castiel in a 'what he said' gesture.

"You're both welcome," Sam said, and as some kind of Christmas miracle or something, he didn't give Dean a hard time about maybe getting almost choked up looking at pictures of Mom and Dad.

Zoë was back at the tree in the next moment, unearthing another envelope. This one addressed to Dean in Castiel's neat handwriting.

Dean closed the photo album and put it aside to take the envelope. Inside was a postcard of the Grand Canyon. Puzzled, Dean turned it over, but it was blank. Just a blank postcard. He looked over at Cas, "Um… thanks, Cas…"

"I thought we could send it to Sam and Zoë," Castiel explained.

"Ooookay."

"From the Grand Canyon."

Dean's eyebrows climbed toward his hairline.

"After we drive there," Castiel finished.

Dean's jaw dropped. "Wait, are you serious? You mean you and me, in the Impala, driving to the Grand Canyon?"

"You said it was a place you always wanted to see, and I know you miss being on the road. I thought we could take a trip."

"But, Cas… you hate riding in the car! I can barely take you to the grocery store."

Castiel made a face. "That is something I must learn to overcome, it's the primary means of transportation for humans, and I am one now. And I want to do this for you."

Dean wanted to argue, because he knew Castiel didn't like being cooped up in the car, but he was already thrumming with excitement. Back on the road, open highway before him, his baby purring in his hands. Fuck, he'd missed that more than anything about the hunting lifestyle. And Castiel was giving it to him, despite discomfort to himself.

"Jesus, man," Dean said hoarsely, "now I feel bad… all I gave you was a fucking jacket."

Castiel ran his fingers over the tan fabric in his lap. He smiled faintly. "You reminded me that I have been important to you, whether I was angel or human."

Dean hoped he wasn't blushing. "Geez, it's just a coat."

"Is it?" Castiel asked pointedly.

"Fine, it's not," Dean conceded, and he knew Sam was going to give him so much grief later about this. He looked down at the postcard again, now a promise of flying down the highway. "This is going to be awesome, I promise. You'll love it, I'll see to that."

"Ugh," Sam groaned, "come on, I don't need to know about you two doing it in the backseat every time you stop somewhere."

Castiel's eyes widened and he looked over at Dean. Dean winked.

"Okay, how about the next present, Zoë?" Bobby interjected. Seems like even if Bobby was fine with Dean and Cas together didn't mean he wanted to hear about their sexual escapades.

Zoë was suddenly a bundle of nerves. "Yeah, sure…" the only gift left (since they broke into Bobby's whiskey Christmas eve so the former hunters could sit around talking about the old days) was the watch for Sam. Dean kind of felt bad for her… she obviously thought Sam was going to be disappointed. He tried to give her an encouraging smile, but he honestly doubted she noticed as she went to the tree to fetch the lone box.

She crossed the room to hand it to Sam. He took it with a warm smile, "Thanks, honey." He unwrapped it, opened the lid… and stared down into the box. His expression was unreadable. Zoë stood anxiously in front of the couch, biting her bottom lip. The room was dead quiet.

Dean frowned, confused. So maybe Zoë had been right to worry… Sam clearly expected more from his girlfriend.

Slowly, Sam looked up at Zoë. "Are you serious?"

Dean blinked. Shit, he sounded so _intense_. He was seconds away from getting up and smacking his brother over the head. Was he really going to have a temper tantrum and ruin Christmas over a _watch_?

Zoë barely nodded.

Suddenly, Sam exploded up off the couch. Dean flinched back, startled, wondering what had possessed his brother and already shifting to run down some salt and iron.

Then Sam wrapped Zoë up in a hug and lifted her off her feet.

Okay, so Sam was actually really happy about a watch. Dean was totally confused. Sam was laughing and swinging Zoë around. He'd left the watch box on the couch. Dean reached over and grabbed it; he had to see what timepiece had caused this much uproar.

It wasn't a watch inside the watch box. It was a pregnancy test stick. Dean didn't need the instructions on the box to know what a little '' meant.

Castiel was peering over Dean's shoulder at the stick, and he started to reach up to touch it. Dean swatted his hand away, "Dude, don't touch that, she peed on it."

Castiel made a face. "Why would Zoë give Sam a present she had urinated on?"

"It's a pregnancy test… it means Sam and Zoë are having a baby." Then Dean looked meaningfully over at Castiel. Their eyes shared the secret they both kept. They knew one day Sam and Zoë would have a baby… a baby whose soul was the salvaged pieces of Castiel's angelic grace. Kid would be real special, that was for sure.

"So you're happy?" Zoë was asking Sam hurriedly.

Sam set her down at last. "Are you kidding? Of course I am!"

"I wasn't sure you'd want a baby; we've been so careful, I don't know how this could have happened."

Dean and Cas exchanged a look. Not a condom in the universe that could guard against Heaven's will.

Sam was wiping tears out of his eyes. "This is amazing… wow… I love you so much, Zoë."

"I love you, too. I'm so glad you're happy about this… because I know it wasn't planned, but I really want this baby."

Sam looked so overcome with glee he didn't know what to do with himself. Then he was fumbling into his pocket. "I was going to do this later tonight, but…" he pulled the ring box from his pocket and dropped to one knee.

Zoë started to cry.

"Zoë Harrison… will you marry me?"

She launched herself at him, crying and laughing. Dean never actually heard a 'yes', but he didn't figure one was really necessary to know the proposal had been accepted.

Bobby stood and went to congratulate the couple. Dean leaned back on the floor, arms braced behind him, and smiled at the whole damn room. Castiel glanced back at him, smiling. Dean grinned.

No matter how many Christmases they had as a family from here on out, it would be really hard to top this one.

To Be Continued…

A/N: While the line "Maybe a mastiff or something" might seem like author bias, since I have a mastiff, it's actually a nod to Harley.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Okay, I'm going to let my Texan show here and say… Merry Christmas, y'all! :)

Dean woke in the middle of the night to find Castiel gone. He looked around the room groggily before slipping out of bed to go look for him.

He found him standing in the kitchen, back door open and screen door closed as he looked out on the snow-covered yard in the moonlight. He was wearing the trench coat, and with the dark-colored sweat pants he had on, in the dim light he looked almost like his old self. Like the angel Dean had let get so far past his guard. It drew Dean up short for a second and he just stared.

"Hello, Dean," Castiel said without turning to look at him.

And that was like old times, too, when Castiel knew Dean was around by picking up on the resonance frequency of his soul or some shit.

"Heya, Cas…" he moved toward the ex-angel. "Did you have a nightmare? You could have woken me, you know."

"I didn't have a nightmare." When Dean came to a stop standing alongside Cas, he turned blue eyes on Dean. There was that same soul-searching quality about his gaze that hadn't vanished with falling. Dean suspected Castiel would always have that scary ability to see right through all his bullshit. He just hoped he didn't stop liking what he saw when he did.

"So… whatcha doing?"

"Thinking." Castiel cocked his head. "Today was a very good day."

Dean smiled softly. "Yeah, it was." Dean sidled closer to Cas. "I've never seen Sam so happy."

"He's going to be a wonderful father."

"He is. Who would have thought either one of us would be here, huh?"

"Here?"

"Sam, engaged with a baby on the way. Me with you."

Castiel looked sidelong at Dean. "Do you regret any of it?"

Dean frowned. "Cas, man… there is so much shit I regret. But you? Not a chance in hell."

Castiel nodded distractedly. Dean could tell something was bothering him. "What is it?"

"Sam… he has what is considered the measure of human happiness. A wife. A child." His eyes skittered away. "You will never have those with me."

"Is _that_what you've been up thinking about?"

Castiel nodded.

Dean scowled. "Cas, that's not… how can you even… look, you traded being _an angel_for me. Do you regret that?"

"Absolutely not."

"Well, there you go." Dean sighed. "So maybe it isn't quote unquote normal, but who cares? You could offer me the entire line-up of models for Busty Asian Beauties, and I'd still pick you. As for kids… I don't know about you, but I'm going to be an _awesome_uncle."

Castiel began to smile. "It'll be strange, to look upon Sam's child and know parts of me are there."

"Nah… that's just family, man."

They stood in silence together for a time, looking out at the backyard, an actual winter wonderland like the freaking song said. Dean caught himself looking more at Castiel than the snow.

"Hey, Cas… I wanted to ask you something."

Castiel looked over at him, quirking one eyebrow like Mister Spock. "You aren't about to propose, are you, Dean?"

Dean laughed quietly. "No, not tonight." Dean moved to the counter to lean against it, regarding Castiel carefully. "I've been thinking… with Sam and Zoë with a baby on the way… well, it might be kind of awkward living here with them like some freaky commune. And these northern winters are awful on my baby."

"Your car?"

Dean paused. "That too. Between the snow and ice and road salt… that shit can eat up the body of a classic car like the Impala in no time. I'll be damned if she made it through all the crap she has just to end up getting rusted out by Ohio.

"But what I was thinking is that this really isn't the climate best suited to you… in all the continental United States, we can find someplace where you'll be happier." Dean looked down at his hands. "So I was thinking… instead of taking a vacation down south, why don't we just move?"

"You mean… you and me?"

"Yeah. I thought we could get a place together… maybe in Texas."

Castiel mulled that over. "Is that decision influenced at all by Doctor Sexy?"

Dean laughed. "No!" Then he squirmed. "Okay, if we did move to Texas I might feel some obligation to buy a pair of cowboy boots, but I'm being serious. Would you like to move with me?"

Castiel left his place at the door to go stand in front of Dean. He regarded him closely. "Won't you miss your brother?"

"Of course I will… but me and Sam, we've been unhealthily up in each other's business our entire lives. Things are different now. He has Zoë; I have you. It's time we get some distance from each other, lived our own lives. And it's not like we'd never see each other again… we'd come visit."

"In the summer," Castiel chimed in.

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, and maybe Christmas could be at our place." Dean caught Castiel's eyes hopefully. "So…? Do you want to?"

"Dean… right after I fell, I told you I wanted to be wherever you were. That hasn't changed. I'd go anywhere to be with you."

"But how do you feel about moving? If you're happy here, I won't take you away from that."

"I am happy here… but that is not Ohio's doing." Castiel's mouth twitched. "I would like to go someplace warm and sunny with you."

Dean reached out and pulled Castiel into him. Cas rested his cheek on Dean's shoulder like it rightly belonged there. Dean rubbed his hands up Castiel's back. "Fair warning… I burn and freckle up in the sun like you wouldn't believe."

"Perhaps that will make them easier to count."

Dean guffawed. "You've been trying to count my freckles?"

"It's an engrossing task, though I have yet to get far without becoming distracted." He nipped lightly at Dean's throat to illustrate his point.

Dean's hold on Castiel tightened. "I thought you knew where everything on me was, put me back together cell by cell and all that."

"I do. I know the number of freckles on you, but I haven't known each and every one with these human hands."

Dean brought up a hand to Castiel's hair, lightly fisting the dark locks. "Well, we'll have to fix that, won't we?" He nuzzled behind Castiel's ear before whispering, "Can I tell you a secret?"

Castiel's hands were worming their way underneath the hem of Dean's t-shirt expertly.

"Seeing you in that trench coat really turns me on."

Castiel drew back, meeting Dean's eyes in the dark. "I see… then perhaps we should take this upstairs… where I can grip you tight."

Dean grinned and pushed off the counter to follow Castiel to the bedroom. "Merry Christmas to me!"

* * *

><p>On the day before New Year's, Dean and Castiel had all their things packed up in the trunk of the Impala, ready to head down south. The decision to move took Sam and Zoë by surprise when Dean told them about it the day after Christmas, but they seemed to understand that it was time for a change. Zoë thought they rushed themselves getting ready taking the mere week that they did, but she didn't realize how out of the ordinary that was for the Winchesters. Dean and Sam were used to taking off on a moment's notice, all their possessions either in the car or their duffel bags.<p>

Dean quit his job at the shop and got his last paycheck. That and what little he'd saved up would have to get them where they were going, and from there they'd have to wing it. Dean wasn't worried. He knew how to come up with a plan on the fly.

Dean was surprised at how much crap he and Cas had accumulated just living in the Harrison house for a few months. There was barely room in the trunk for it all on top of the weapons (because Dean might no longer be a hunter, but he wasn't to the point where he could strip his beloved car of the protection it had always offered).

They hadn't specified a day they wanted to leave… they just found themselves with everything packed and no more loose ends to tie up one morning. And Dean, being the rolling stone that he was, decreed they would leave that day.

The road practically called to him, and Dean could hardly wait to go. Even still, he found himself standing at the front window, looking out at the Impala in the driveway. Cas and Zoë were out there; Zoë had insisted on packing them a lunch fit for kings. Castiel was trying to find an appropriate place in the backseat for the large basket, looking kind of perturbed about its bulky size.

"He's just worrying about it getting in the way of you two getting it on back there," a voice said behind Dean. Dean turned and saw his brother approaching.

Dean snorted. "That's a valid concern. Two men is a tight squeeze back there as it is."

Sam grimaced. "Too much information, Dean."

Dean shrugged. "You brought it up." They stood side by side a moment.

"This is weird," Sam finally commented.

"Yeah, I know. It hasn't really sunk in that when I go out there and get in the car, you won't be getting in with me."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. "But this is what you want, right?"

"What, to not be here when there's a screaming baby not letting anyone sleep through the night? Oh yeah, this is what I want."

Sam punched Dean lightly on the arm. Then he sighed. "You guys will visit, right? Once the baby comes?"

"All the freaking time, Sammy. You're not getting rid of me that easy."

"Good… I'm going to miss you, Dean."

"Me too. But this is good for us… we both need this."

"I know." Sam watched Castiel and Zoë carry on a conversation a second before he said, "Two years ago, I would never believe this would be our lives."

"I'd have laid odds on dead over this," Dean mumbled. Then that restlessness stirred in his gut, that drive telling him to move on. The same itch to go that he'd been suppressing for months. Only this time, he didn't.

"Well, guess we should head on out."

"Yeah, sure… call me when you get where you're going?"

Dean grinned, "Dude, I'm texting you from every tourist trap between here and Arizona. All those giant balls of twine you never wanted to see… I'll bet Cas'll check them out with me."

"And that, right there, is why he's perfect for you." It was meant as a joke, but it hit so dangerously close to the mark that both Winchesters just kind of went quiet and rolled with it.

The brothers walked out the front door together. Sam stopped on the porch and reached out to grab Dean's arm by the elbow. Dean turned to face his younger brother. Sam smiled thinly. "Okay, I know that no one just came back from the dead or anything, but…" Sam stepped forward and folded his arms around Dean in a hug. Dean returned it… this hugging outside of miraculous resurrections wasn't all that bad.

When they broke apart, Sam stayed on the porch while Dean headed toward the car. Zoë intercepted him. She had no compunctions about giving him a hug. "You two take care of each other," she said.

"Yeah, well, you take care of my brother and my niece or nephew."

"You know I will… don't be strangers, okay? I'll be really offended if Uncle Dean and Uncle Cas aren't a big part of this baby's life."

"You couldn't keep us away if you tried," Dean promised.

Zoë joined Sam on the porch while Dean angled for the driver's side door of his beloved car. Castiel was already sitting in the passenger seat. Dean got in and just enjoyed the feeling, the leather of the seat, the smell of the car, the gleam of her metal in the sun… fuck, he'd missed all this. He looked over at the seat that had always been Sam's, but it wasn't wrong to see Cas sitting there, either. He was wearing the trench coat, though there were warmer jackets he could have chosen. It made Dean smile… maybe the symbolism of it meant as much to Castiel as it did to Dean.

"You ready, Cas?"

Castiel splayed his fingers over the seat, as if testing the sturdiness of the Impala under him. "I am."

Dean began to reach forward to put the key in the ignition and stopped a second, just watching Castiel. As an angel, he'd given up Heaven for Dean. As a human, he was agreeing to a cross-country move to make Dean happy. No one but Sam had ever done so much for him. With Cas, it was even more astounding, because every bit of it was out of free will. The fact that no blood obligation to family compelled Castiel to do it made Dean feel _worthwhile_. Like he mattered. Like he was wanted. There were plenty of times when Dean felt like Sam thought he was stuck with Dean since they were brothers, but Castiel had _chosen_Dean.

The words came out of Dean without thought. "I love you."

Castiel turned his head quickly to lock eyes with Dean. He looked shocked for a split-second, then he was beaming. One of those rare, full-blown Castiel grins that lit up his entire face and made the skin on the bridge of his nose crinkle.

Dean knew he was grinning back like an idiot, but he didn't care.

"I love you, too," Castiel returned warmly. Castiel looked over his shoulder at the street, gave a tick of his head, and said with a smile, "Let's go."

Drive to their new life together.

Dean didn't have to be told twice.

END


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